


Anamnesis

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3179552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idol/Publicist AU. Changmin’s next client is Chen, a rookie who needs a little fame to start-up his career, but what should be a straightforward job gets complicated when Changmin realizes he’ll have to deal with his own career in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anamnesis

**Author's Note:**

> x-posted from [smtheficathon](http://smtheficathon.livejournal.com/).
> 
>  **warnings:** language, explicit sex, age gap (20 year old with a 28 year old), semi-fictional interpretations of the south korean entertainment industry.

-

‘He’s too boring,’ is the first thing Changmin hears when he gets assigned his newest artist. ‘Start a scandal.’

Changmin stares up at the label director, both eyebrows raised. ‘Any suggestions, or just the usual?’

‘The usual should do him well.’

The usual, then.

-

‘Management is taking a risk with this one. We’ve gone the boy band route, our girl bands aren’t doing so badly either. The director is done with the solo singers – market’s saturated at this point. This one, though. You remember the last time we debuted a rock artist?’

Changmin does.

-

 _Meet me on Wednesday at two_ , e-mails Changmin as he flips through the folder. Kim Jongdae, born September 21, has an older brother, auditioned at age 18, accepted by the label after three rounds. Sampled songs included two ballads and a pop song. He would be debuting at 20, after two years of standard idol training. Changmin keeps flipping and then sighs – no adoption, no divorce, can’t even go for the eldest child rebelling angle. Jongdae really was boring.

-

He’s even punctual. The coffee shop is half-empty and warm as Changmin drinks his perfectly pretentious latte, watching Jongdae step inside at a minute past two in the afternoon, his ears and nose red from the spring chill.

‘Jongdae,’ calls out Changmin, and Jongdae jerks his head in surprise before smiling and bowing his head a little. Well-mannered too. ‘Get something to drink, and we’ll talk.’

A few minutes later, Jongdae is sitting across from him, carefully folding his gloves together and putting them in his jacket pocket. His hair is cut boyishly across his face, making him look much younger than twenty, and Changmin resists cringing when Jongdae shrugs off his coat to reveal his fuzzy pink sweatervest. At least it was inoffensively light pink, he supposes.

‘I’m Shim Changmin, I’ve been assigned by the company to be your publicist.’

Jongdae nods, eyes on him as his small hands curl around a mug of hot chocolate. ‘Nice to meet you, Changmin-sshi.’

Changmin continues, sliding his fingers over the manila folder on the table in front of him. ‘I’ve read up on you, as much as was available. What are you doing now?’

‘Recording my first single and being trained on my image,’ replies Jongdae. He takes a sip and gets a smear of cream on the corner of his mouth. It makes him look like a fucking child.

‘What _is_ your image anyway?’

‘I’m recording a rock single,’ he says with a thoughtful frown. ‘So, my image is supposed to be a rockstar.’

Even though Changmin already _knows_ this, it’s a little hard to believe.

‘For starters, rockstars don’t wear sweatervests.’

Jongdae blinks and looks down at himself. ‘Even if it keeps me warm?’

This was going to be a disaster.

-

Changmin arranges to meet Jongdae on Sunday after that horrible first encounter. He understands the director now – _he’s too boring; start a scandal_.

First, there is a list of sunbaes assigned in the company to compile, then another list of fellow upcoming artists from the other labels. Changmin gets it done in two days’ time and collapses on Kyuhyun’s couch in abject despair over the weekend.

‘Do you remember the last time we signed a rock artist,’ sneers Changmin, mocking the management. ‘We’re taking a _risk_.’

Kyuhyun chokes on his beer. ‘They sound more nasally than that.’

‘This kid fucking dresses like you.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my wardrobe.’

‘You’re a ballad singer, the hell I’m letting Jongdae run around looking like a fucking _ballad singer_.’

‘A _famous_ and _talented_ ballad singer,’ corrects Kyuhyun, getting up from the couch and taking Changmin’s empty bottle with him. He comes back with another opened beer and hands it off. Changmin makes a grateful noise in the back of his throat. ‘How is he compared to his rockstar predecessor?’

‘Well, they’re both short.’

‘See, there’s hope for him yet.’

‘I need to find a sunbae for him.’

Kyuhyun hums in thought. ‘I have a radio interview next week, I can tell the PD to ask me ‘what new singer do I have my eyes on.’ They love that sort of shit.’

‘What part of ‘I’m not letting him be a ballad singer’ do you not understand?’ Changmin says flatly.

‘He can be the first well-mannered, sweater-wearing, baby-faced rockstar of our time.’

Changmin drags a hand down his face, trying not to cry.

-

They’re both short – Jongdae and _him_. Changmin doesn’t mention to Kyuhyun that there’s something guileless in Jongdae’s eyes, easily believing, easily trusting. The way _he_ had looked as well whenever Changmin had talked to him – head cocked to the side all, ‘ah, Changmin-ah, you’re so cute.’ Voice low, soft. Endearing, easy to trust.

Instead, Changmin is quiet and tips his bottle back, empties it out down his throat, the taste too sharp, too familiar and nostalgic. When he looks down the glass neck, there are dirty dregs of memories at the bottom, waiting to be rinsed out.

-

On Sunday, Changmin has his laptop out on the table next to his double shot of espresso. Jongdae’s wearing a navy blue sweater this time; the cheaper, middle-class version of Kyuhyun’s ‘this was given to me by the designer personally.’ Either way, it was offensively lowkey for someone aspiring to be a rock artist. He bows to Changmin and goes to the counter, coming back with a coffee so overloaded on cream, its coloured a pale beige at this point.

‘First things first,’ says Changmin, ‘I know you’ve been featured on two songs by your sunbaes already, but we’re going to have to find you one to talk to and get you attention.’

He nods. ‘Okay.’

‘Do you have any one in mind?’

Jongdae pauses for a beat too long, then shakes his head. ‘Not really. They’re all nice.’

Right. Changmin wasn’t new at reading between the lines. ‘You clearly just thought of someone.’

‘When’s the last time a rock artist was debuted by the company?’ asks Jongdae instead. ‘Ten years ago, right?’

‘Nine,’ corrects Changmin.

‘Either way, I grew up watching him.’ Jongdae leans back in his chair, lost in thought. ‘I want to be like that. I can’t meet him, obviously. Against company policy. But someone like that – that’s the type.’

‘Okay.’ Changmin considers his two rosters and immediately strikes out half the names before honing in on one. ‘This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to get you a cheap little interview in the next week and you’re going to insult Heechul.’

Jongdae’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline in surprise. ‘No?’

‘Yes. Look, we’re trying to solidify a bad boy rockstar image for you, you can’t just go around like – like _that_.’ Changmin vaguely gestures to all of Jongdae. Sweater-wearing, baby-faced choir boy.

‘I’m not going to be a very good rockstar because I’ll be dead when Heechul kills me.’

‘Heechul won’t _kill_ you.’

‘Maim?’ offers Jongdae, looking increasingly incredulous at the idea.

Changmin ignores him. ‘We can focus on his appearance. Maybe throw in an anecdote about how tacky his hair looks after he dyed it red. Or an embarrassing moment. Maybe just challenge him – how you’ll surpass him or something equally obnoxious. The only thing off-limits is anything like talent.’

‘So I can say he’s ugly, but I can’t say he’s a bad idol?’

‘Basically.’ A wave of anticipation wells in Changmin’s chest. ‘Once you’re under the spotlight, that’s when we’ll _really_ start things.’

-

Changmin watches as Heechul stares at the MC, his plastic-looking red hair shining under the cheap lighting. ‘Who the fu – _hell_ is Chen?’

‘He’s joking, you’re joking!’ laughs the MC, turning to the audience. ‘For those of you who don’t know, recently a new rookie has been signed on, going by the name of Chen. His single will be out in only a few weeks.’

The MC probably thinks he’s doing the label a favour, bringing attention to two artists instead of one, thinks he’s ahead of the idol curb because of it. Changmin admires that sort of underhanded tenacity.

It’s Tuesday and he’s standing backstage at the pre-recording, one hand holding the cheap magazine that contains Chen’s comments on his sunbae: _I really admire Heechul-sunbae, but recently… I shouldn’t_ _say this. [laughter] You know those cherry candies? Yes – yes, that brand, ah, you know. Recently, I can’t even look at sunbae without getting cravings for those_.

As long Jongdae mentions at least one high-profile name within the company, the internet will pounce and information will spread. Lo, behold, here was Heechul taking a deep breath and recovering from his slip-up, hating to be caught off-guard, as he nods at the MC.

Heechul’s an old-hand at this. He spins some story about sunbae-hoobae relations within the company, and says Chen’s name twice. Good enough.

-

Heechul’s fanbase is obnoxious to start with, probably developed some sort of instant notification for whenever someone breathes his name in public. They pick up on Chen in less than a day, slam him down, then pause and look back at his face. Backtrack to his cameo stages. The short lines he gets in some songs.

While the initial attention is overwhelmingly negative, something slips away as the days continue. The few weeks leading to Jongdae’s teaser being released on the internet grow shorter and shorter, and a small wave of, ‘he has a pretty voice, a nice face, I think I like him’ comes to take over the first burst of criticisms.

Changmin is surprised by how well the tides turn, and looks over Jongdae’s pictures in the online articles – snapped up by TV stations when he had done the cameo stages pre-debut. He can’t tell if there’s a difference between Chen and Jongdae, nor if there’s a difference between Jongdae and _him_.

Changmin remembers the way Jongdae held his cup of coffee – he’s small, fingers and palms and wrists like carefully-crafted miniatures.

 _He_ had broad hands with short fingers as well.

‘Changmin-ah, you’re so tall,’ _he_ would say, arm coming around Changmin’s waist, feeling like steel, iron, immovable. Changmin is younger here, with ignorance steeped in his bones, wanting nothing more than to desperately claw himself out of that half-grip.

He blinks, and then there’s a lowres picture of Jongdae’s face beside _Chen spotted with Heechul at the_ _same company concert_ , with a short blurb and some fan accounts thrown down, the comment section probably full if Changmin scrolls.

If he blinks again, Jongdae’s face wavers, becomes _him_ , and Changmin can feel something twist in his stomach. A satisfaction. This time, it is Changmin’s arm that is the immutable hold, pressing _him_ down.

-

‘Why don’t I have your number?’ asks Jongdae on Thursday a few weeks after the first incident, propping his chin in his hands, elbows on the table. His hair’s messy around his face, frames his eyes with their long lashes. Even if he’s young, Changmin can see how he’d be attractive.

‘Why do you need it?’ asks Changmin, pulling up a schedule. The sudden influx of media appearances people want slowly fills it up.

‘So I can text you – Changmin-hyung, did I do well? Should I have said something else? Should I wear the pink sweater or the purple one?’

‘You own a purple sweater?’

Jongdae laughs, and it’s infectious enough for Changmin’s mouth to twitch into something resembling a smile. ‘You would know if I could text you.’

‘My information is very confidential.’ Changmin takes a sip from his latte, getting foam on his top lip. ‘There are a lot of people who would probably want it for themselves.’

‘Like angry exes?’ Jongdae asks, passing over a napkin.

‘Like angry ex-idols.’

‘You’re so scary, hyung.’

‘Yet you still talk back to me,’ says Changmin as he contemplates his spreadsheet of dates and times and people. ‘The teaser comes out tomorrow, right?’

‘Yeah. Have you ever heard me sing?’

Changmin’s fingers pause on the keyboard, and something like a flush of embarrassment crawls up his neck. The silence stretches too long for Changmin to lie – he can’t tell Jongdae that Changmin has his predecessor’s entire discography blazoned into his psyche out of admiration and hatred, that listening to _Jongdae_ hadn’t exactly been his first thought.

Instead of feeling offended, Jongdae just laughs again, leaning back in his chair, dressed in a red sweater this time, with an ugly rabbit design stitched over the stomach. Maybe it’s ironic.

‘It’s okay, hyung. Rock isn’t everyone’s thing, but I think you’d like my vocals on that pop song I did a few months back.’

Something like guilt bites at him. Changmin still stares at his laptop screen but says, ‘it’s one of my favourite genres.’

He looks up when there’s no answer, and finds Jongdae watching him over the rim of his coffee cup.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ Jongdae puts down his cup. ‘I just didn’t take hyung for the type.’

‘I don’t even want to know,’ says Changmin, waving the words away with his hand. ‘I’ll give you my number if you stay quiet until I finish finalizing your schedule.’ Some part of his brain says it’s not much of a challenge, but Changmin ignores it.

It works, of course. Jongdae doesn’t talk, but Changmin can _feel_ his gaze, what he’s probably looking at. All the parts that make up Changmin: a head of dark hair, long body with limbs that fold a little awkwardly around his chair and under the table, possibly the faded line of stubble from his upper lip to under his chin. It’s been a few days since he shaved.

It’s suddenly too much, too embarrassing, too fucking _familiar_. It’s not just Jongdae’s eyes on him anymore, but _his_ as well – both of them – dissecting and compartmentalizing a younger Changmin, and for some reason, the nostalgia rises up Changmin’s throat with the sharp sting of bile and he needs this to _stop_. ‘Look. Just.’ Changmin pulls out his phone from his jacket pocket and slides it across the table. ‘Do what you want.’

‘Thanks, hyung,’ grins Jongdae, eyes crinkling, childlike. Changmin has to look away.

A few minutes later, he turns his laptop around, showing Jongdae the screen. ‘It’s not very full, but it’s more than before, which is a good sign. More events will be scheduled for you when the teaser comes out tomorrow. What you need to worry about now is your image.’

Jongdae’s brows scrunch together. ‘Something specific you want me to do?’

 _The usual_ , says the director. Changmin schools his expression to something he hopes is non-threatening. ‘I’ll let you know later.’

-

It’s two in the morning on Saturday – no, wait, now Sunday – when Changmin stumbles home pleasantly buzzed and still a little restless.

He lies on his couch, laptop on his stomach, and pulls up the thirty second teaser.

Oh. _Oh_.

-

‘Did you like it?’ asks Jongdae as they both sit in the label director’s waiting room on Monday morning.

Changmin plays ignorant. ‘Like what?’

Jongdae tips his head to the side, watches, before shaking his head, disarming smile on his mouth. ‘Nothing.’

The door to the office opens. Changmin sends up a thankful prayer in his head.

-

‘What Changmin-sshi has been doing for you is only the preliminary round. If we’re going to get attention on you, you’ll have to behave more like… like a rock artist. Music is entertainment, you know that.’

Jongdae inclines his head in agreement, says nothing.

The director continues: ‘That means you do as he says, even if you don’t find it… palatable. This is for you, you understand, Jongdae?’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Good. I knew you’d be good. Once you have enough of a following, I will assign you a professional manager. Changmin takes that role for now, so do be accommodating as if he would be your manager.’

Vaguely, Changmin wonders who will end up with Jongdae. They probably wouldn’t have much trouble. As far as Changmin’s gathered in the past two weeks is that Jongdae is punctual and polite to his elders, doesn’t say more than necessary, before fucking off to who-knows-where. And then there’s Chen… Changmin stops thinking right there.

-

‘You still haven’t texted me,’ says Changmin as they walk out of the office. He’s scrolling through some entertainment articles on his phone, not even looking at Jongdae. It _is_ a little rude, but Changmin’s eight years older than him, he can do what he wants.

‘Figured you’d be annoyed.’ Jongdae is wearing an unbuttoned dark peacoat over an oversized knitted grey sweater. Something a grandfather would wear.

‘Your sense of style annoys me.’

‘You told me that from day one.’

‘How are you going to convince people you’re a bad boy when you dress like a senior citizen?’

‘Except I have a baby face.’

Changmin snorts, pocketing his phone as they finally get to the back door exit of the building. He digs for his car keys in his pocket, looking over at Jongdae. ‘Where are you off to?’

Jongdae checks the time on his own phone before shrugging. ‘I have to get up at, like, six for tomorrow’s photoshoot. I guess I’ll go home and enjoy the last day of my freedom by sleeping.’

‘You’re staying at the dorms?’

‘Yeah.’

His fingers finally get a hold of his car keys and he hums. ‘Okay.’

‘Hyung, this is where you’re supposed to treat your hoobae to dinner.’

There’s a moment where Changmin makes the mistake of looking at Jongdae and his mind rearranges those baby face features before him. The cheap lighting of the hallways highlights the hollows under Jongdae’s eyes, the curve of his cheekbone, the corners of his mouth. No, not Jongdae, Chen Chen Chen.

Changmin’s stomach twists and he shakes his head. ‘Shut up and go get some rest.’ He pushes open the door to the parking lot, lets the cool spring temperature wash over his face, makes him pretend the shiver up his spine is due to the wind chill.

-

It’s not Chen. Changmin pretends he sees Chen. It’s who he’s _supposed_ to see. He has to repeat it – has to make sure his vision doesn’t blur Jongdae’s young, sharp face into someone else who is also youthful and caustic; someone who knew exactly how to dig into Changmin’s skin when Changmin was still vulnerable.

The view count on Jongdae’s teaser goes up by the hour, every time Changmin checks. It wouldn’t be this high had Changmin not pulled the first event with Heechul. All this attention and the first inklings of fame are from Changmin’s fingertips and Changmin’s mind and Changmin’s voice. He wants to say the satisfaction is in being able to raise Jongdae – or Chen – from the ground up.

But Changmin can’t see past the hazy scenes of nine, eight, seven years ago – images transposed onto Jongdae that are clearly not him, but ghosts of an era long past now.

‘Did you like my performance, Changminnie?’ _he_ had asked once, sweeping through the back corridors with the confidence of the famous, eyes slicing Changmin open to the bone when Changmin met his gaze, his own palms damp.

The air shimmers, parts the curtain of past and present, and the picture of Jongdae looks out at Changmin from the screen of his laptop now. Changmin feels his throat close up, unfamiliar with the kid when he really shouldn’t be, but his chest is still twisted up and warm.

Something like power thrums under Changmin’s skin – now, years later, it’s Changmin with the skill, the ability to control the one person who still creeped along the edges of his thoughts. He wonders if Jongdae knows – how Changmin looks at Jongdae and instead sees a face from ten years ago, how Changmin works so hard to raise that ghost of his past from the ground up. A ghost that had once been able to cut Changmin down with just a look; now, Changmin is the one who will make or break _him_.

-

Maybe he should talk about it to Kyuhyun, or Minho, or Yunho, but it’s not their problem. It’s his.

Nevertheless, Changmin buys takeout for two and ends up at Kyuhyun’s apartment. ‘Hey.’

Kyuhyun’s entire expression brightens at the food – he’s fucking abysmal at cooking, though Changmin’s tried to teach him. Now that he thinks about it, _all_ of Changmin’s friends are abysmal at cooking. He has to wonder if Jongdae is as well and starts to cough to get his head to _shut the fuck up_.

‘You okay? Sick?’ asks Kyuhyun as he goes around looking for dishes and chopsticks, gesturing for Changmin to start unpacking the takeout on the table.

‘I watched Jongdae’s teaser and I hate it.’

‘I told you he should’ve been a ballad singer.’

‘Kyuhyun.’

Kyuhyun brings over the dishes and starts filling them up. ‘How bad? We have Song Qian accidentally swearing on national television bad, and then we have Heechul’s scheduling mishap two years back bad, the one where he was late to perform at the fucking Blue House.’

Changmin cringes at the memory, but pushes it aside. ‘It’s not _bad_. Just… cheap. The teaser is too similar to the ones they’ve already done. They’re recycling their own rock artists.’

They’re seated by the time Kyuhyun replies, staring contemplatively into his rice bowl. ‘Look, dude, do you hate the teaser or do you hate the kid for doing the teaser?’

That’s the problem. ‘Both.’ Changmin’s past rides up his spine, threatens to suffocate him. _They’re too_ _similar_.

At the silence, Kyuhyun asks, ‘so he’s good at it?’

The teaser is thirty seconds long. Most of it is filmed in black and white and grey. It begins with those so-called artistic shots of hands holding the mic. There are flashes of mouth – curled at the corners, teeth glinting under the light. The camera pans over the other instruments – drums, bass guitar, keyboard – and the faceless members in the background. The music sample is the riff just before the chorus. The same riff that has Chen opening his mouth, eyes half-lidded, cheekbones obvious, looking wonderfully debauched and dangerous, as he holds onto his microphone and croons something breathy and low.

‘He’s really fucking good.’

-

Changmin very casually avoids Jongdae for the rest of the week. He can’t avoid his phone though, having to deal with an inane stream of text messages that come out of nowhere.

 _They never have food at photoshoots, it’s really awful_ , or _Drummer-hyung is really much nicer than you, he actually got me food_ , or _I saw my first fansite today and they have no problem with my sweaters_.

He never replies to any of them. Instead, he busies himself for the rest of the week by meeting another publicist from another company, going by the name of Seohyun.

‘I’d rather there be no physical injuries,’ she tells him over the rim of her overpriced macchiato.

‘Obviously,’ replies Changmin, looking over her roster of newcomer idols on her tablet. ‘Which one, though?’

‘I was thinking this one.’ She taps her finger on the picture of a boy with a pretty mouth and a pretty… everything. Changmin can see why she wouldn’t want these goods damaged. ‘Lee Taemin.’

‘He’s not too built,’ hums Changmin in satisfaction. Everyone else on this list look like they could snap Jongdae in half. His fault for being so short and constantly looking tiny in his ugly, ugly sweaters.

They agree on a time and place.

-

The music video drops on the same day Jongdae is up for his live, as is custom. Friday morning is a busy mess in the backstage. Changmin shows up just for fun – half curiosity, half because he told Yunho he’d meet him later and the stage was on his way.

‘Hyung,’ says Jongdae in surprise when Changmin flashes his ID and gets into the makeup room.

‘Yo,’ he greets, looking around. The coordis shuffle around him, so Changmin sits on the couch out of the way, looking at the mess of makeup and hair products on the counter in front of the mirror, the bright lighting, the racks of clothes shoved aside in the corner. There’s a cameraman standing beside Changmin, catching some footage to release in a behind-the-scenes video later should Jongdae get popular enough.

He’ll make sure of it.

In one of the high stools in front of the mirror is Jongdae. He looks a little tired around the edges, but any bags under his eyes are hidden by the concealer the coordi smears on. Jongdae still doesn’t know you can talk and move as the coordis dress him up for performance – he stays stiff-backed in his chair, watching them with attentive eyes as they make him tilt his face this way and that.

Changmin fills in the air for him – wouldn’t want the footage to be completely boring. ‘This was one of the first stages of your predecessor too.’ Rooms like this are as familiar, as intimate as the lines of his palm, and Changmin feels simultaneously as completely out-of-place and utterly comfortable as he did when he first stepped into one. He belongs here but also not at all.

At his voice, Jongdae’s eyes flick over to him, indicating he’s listening.

‘His was much cheaper, of course. You’re wearing some nice things, aren’t you?’ He is – the fashion coordis have made sure all the black is edged with silver and there are accessories galore. There are rings and bracelets over his hands, a loose tank top that drops low at the sides so Changmin can see the shadow of his ribs and muscle. There’s a leather jacket hanging off a hook on the wall, waiting to be worn after the makeup is done.

The eyeliner comes out, so Jongdae closes his eyes. Changmin takes in the sight of the flare of his lashes (longer than _his_ ), the sharp arch of his cheekbone (sharper than _his_ ). His gaze drops to Jongdae’s bare arm (smaller than _his_ ) – looking skinny compared to the push and curve of his biceps in the teaser. Maybe it was music video photoshop.

‘Just remember to look at the audience, not the camera. The cameras are just a distraction looking for an angle; it’s the audience you’re performing for. Have they told you which recording they’ll be playing?’

_Have they told you that you’ll lip-synch or if this is live?_

The coordi moves away and Jongdae opens his eyes, looking at Changmin. ‘Yeah.’

‘Okay – stick to that, even if it’s annoying.’ Changmin runs over his experience, parsing through the tangled thread of his memories, mixing him and Jongdae and _him_ all up in a mess, trying to fish out some other advice from the clusterfuck in his head. ‘Try to smile, but it might be hard. No pressure but everyone is watching your every move at every angle, so if you need to adjust yourself, better do it backstage.’

‘No pressure,’ snorts Jongdae, looking at his own reflection. They’ve washed and dried his hair, left it alone so it moves with every gesture of Jongdae’s head. It would look good that way when he performed.

‘If I can do it, you can,’ says Changmin, before he clicks his mouth shut, hoping against hope that no one heard him, especially not this kid.

He’s wrong, of course. Jongdae is watching him now, again – watches Changmin’s every fucking move as always. He has eyes with a slant around them, makes them cat-like with the liner accentuating the outer corners. ‘Hyung,’ he starts.

Changmin stands up and strides to the door, not even looking back. ‘You rehearsed this so you can do it.’

-

He watches Jongdae perform from the camera room, standing in the back as people yell out, ‘number four, move to the side ’ and ‘pan up, number two, good good’ through their microphones. It’s easier this way – he can’t hear the screams of the audience, the raw rumble of Chen’s voice.

Chen is good for a rookie – he unhooks his mic from the stand and walks around the stage, croons something sweet and rough to one corner of the audience, moves to the other side. Right before the final chorus, Chen takes his jacket and drags it down his arms, lets it bunch at his elbows so everyone can see his shoulders and biceps, the way the tank top twists and shows a slice of skin. Tempting.

He screams out the last ad lib, eyes closed and head tipped back, veins in his neck, upper body gone tense so Changmin has to re-evaluate. Chen’s not skinny; his muscle is just wrapped tightly around him, only revealed when he exerts himself. Somehow, that’s even better than being explicitly cut.

Maybe he notices because it’s a marked difference from the vision of the other that steals over Jongdae sometimes in Changmin’s eyes. It’s the only thing that jars Changmin from the image of _him_ on the stage (not Chen, never Chen), singing his pretty little heart out, talent pouring out between his lips, for a thunderous audience that _Changmin_ put there.

The lights dim, and Chen finally walks off to a roomful of applause and screams. All that work for a few minutes of performance, done so fast.

Changmin lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and hides in the camera room until he’s sure Jongdae’s already passed by.

-

Yunho is the in-house company lawyer. He isn’t pleased when Changmin tells him what he’s planning in two weeks.

‘Jongdae’s a nice kid, let that be his image,’ he says, sitting at his table as he watches Changmin conquer his kitchen to make dinner.

‘Even Kyuhyun has started shit and he does _ballads_ ,’ says Changmin, finding eggs and rice and wanting to give up. ‘When’s the last time you went grocery shopping, hyung?’

Of course, Yunho ignores the important part and says, ‘Kyuhyun’s image isn’t pleasantness, it’s being a brat. Which he’s very good at, by the way. Have you been teaching him?’

‘You’re so funny,’ says Changmin dryly as he scavenges for vegetables in the fridge. ‘Anyway, Jongdae’s annoying.’

‘Cause he actually wants to talk to you and maybe be your friend?’ Yunho is off the mark, but it’s close enough.

‘Yeah.’ When Changmin emerges from behind fridge door, he sees Yunho muffling laughter with his hand, shoulders shaking. ‘Don’t make fun of me.’

‘I’m sorry, Changminnie.’

‘Anyway, the Seohyun thing – _he_ pulled shit like this all the time, so Jongdae should be fine.’ He moves to the counter and dumps whatever ingredients he’s found. It’s not as hopeless as he first thought.

Suddenly, there’s a heat behind Changmin’s spine. He feels Yunho hovering beside him, one hand pressing against his back. ‘Changmin-ah, are you jealous?’

Changmin’s shoulders tense and he hates how obvious he is to his friends. ‘About _what_?’

‘That he’s going to make it where you couldn’t.’ Trust Yunho to never pull any punches.

‘I wasn’t going to make it anyway.’

‘Changmin…’

‘I _wasn’t_. You _know_ that.’ Changmin moves away, trying to find his favourite knife. ‘I’m not cut out for all that idol shit.’ He glances over his shoulder at Yunho. ‘You’d probably be good at it.’

Yunho leans his back against the counter, quirking a smile. ‘Maybe we should’ve been idols together.’

‘Too late for that,’ replies Changmin, but the thought of it makes some tension drain out of him. ‘I’d make fun of you all the time.’

‘Don’t worry, I’d pay you back for it,’ laughs Yunho.

-

Jongdae texts him on Sunday morning. _your voice is amazing._

Changmin rolls over and screams into his pillow. He’s twenty fucking eight years old, he thought he was over this, he thought he was done. Clearly fucking not.

Another text. _no wonder you know everything, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?_

He’s only just woken up and he’s already exhausted. Changmin stares at his phone screen and then, finally, replies: _don’t fucking pity me._

 _morning, hyung, if you’re awake, we should eat lunch together_.

He was so annoying. _don’t you have a schedule?_

_not till three. pick me up from the dorms in an hour?_

Changmin automatically types out _fuck no_ before he pauses and hears Yunho’s voice in his head all, _why_ _don’t you give the kid a chance?_ He deletes the answer, sends _fine_ instead. Hyung would be proud.

-

Summer seems to be late because there’s still a bite to the air even in April. At least there’s no spring rain. Jongdae is waiting in the parking garage, wearing that same buttoned-up peacoat. Changmin hopes there’s no atrocity underneath.

‘So, where are we going, hyung?’ asks Jongdae as he settles in the passenger seat, fiddling around with the radio and temperature setting on the dashboard panel.

‘A place.’

‘Great.’ Jongdae surfs through the radio channels before leaving it on something pop-centric. He leans back in his seat, fingers tapping to the beat on his knee as he looks out the window. Jongdae has a nice profile, his fansites must be happy. ‘I sort of feel bad that I didn’t remember you from back when I was a kid.’

Fucking hell. Changmin tightens his grip on the steering wheel and doesn’t reply.

‘I still remember all the words to Rusty Nail,’ continues Jongdae. ‘You had one single, cycled through some stuff, released a mini album, and then disappeared. Did I get that right?’

‘Are you trying to get brownie points because you read some article?’

Jongdae ignores him. ‘Why’d you disappear?’

Changmin sighs. ‘Sales weren’t good enough, especially considering I was coming out just a little while after your predecessor. They thought I could ride his wave of success, but instead I crashed and burned. Being awful at interviews and terrible under the spotlight also helped.’

‘So you became a publicist?’

‘Easy money considering I had personal experience in the industry. I know what people want, I just couldn’t deliver.’

Now that Changmin’s laid it out in front of him, he imagines the conversation is over. Clearly not, because Jongdae just _has_ to keep going: ‘is that why you don’t like talking to me?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’

‘We should be friends, hyung.’

Changmin humours him. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m fun and interesting.’

‘You dress like someone’s grandfather.’

Jongdae laughs, loud and free. It makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and shows the line of his teeth. Changmin feels his own mouth smile and bites the inside of his cheek to hide it. ‘Changmin-hyung, these sweaters aren’t mine; they’re my friend’s.’

‘You should really give them back.’

‘They’re keeping me warm for the time being. I didn’t pack much when I moved out from Daejeon to Seoul.’ Jongdae hums in thought. ‘Besides, I think he likes it when I wear them.’ Oh. Changmin’s mind picks up that thread of words, spins in circles with it until he can hear it in his ears on repeat. Jongdae seems to shrug it off as he leans forward, cranking the volume of the radio. ‘I fucking love this song.’

The rest of Changmin’s thoughts are drowned out by Jongdae’s overenthusiastic singing.

-

Lunch doesn’t bring up Changmin’s less-than-stellar past, so he counts it as a win. Jongdae is at least quiet when he’s eating, but by the time the table is cleared, he’s back to talking. And talking. And fucking _talking_.

And… it’s okay. Changmin sort of just wants to cross his arms on the table to pillow his head as he listens, humming along. Jongdae is twenty and a completely immature mess, but it also means he comes equipped with a hundred and one stories of the shit he and his friends keep getting into together. ‘We’re called the beagleline,’ laughs Jongdae at one point. Changmin can guess why.

‘You need to get to your next thing,’ says Changmin eventually. Jongdae checks the time on his phone and nods. He gets up and pulls out his wallet, which personally offends Changmin at this point. ‘I’m the hyung.’

‘Are you?’ challenges Jongdae, eyebrows raised in disbelief. ‘Usually the hyung and dongsaeng are friends.’

‘I let you in my car and listened to you talk for an hour without hurting you, we’re friends.’

The admission has Jongdae grinning like a fool, and Changmin lets the warmth fill his chest even if he doesn’t let it show.

-

Seohyun calls him. ‘Just as a reminder.’

‘Yeah, I know, I know,’ he replies. Jongdae finishes up another magazine interview in an upscale bistro place. The sun is out today, so they make him change into a pastel pink t-shirt with a black blazer over top and layer his fingers and neck with accessories that glint silver under the natural light. The photos come out fairly well – relaxed, pretty, doesn’t-give-a-fuck Chen.

Afterwards, Jongdae changes back into his off-white pullover that has farm animals printed along the hem. Changmin makes him button up the peacoat before they leave the building. The hell he’s letting Jongdae’s fansites see that hideous thing.

Jongdae’s crowd of followers is small enough that he gives out a few autographs and a small spiel of thanks before getting hustled into Changmin’s car.

‘On Friday night, I want you to get ready to go to a club. I’ll pick you up around ten. Eat dinner beforehand, since you’ll be drinking.’

Jongdae looks at him incredulously. ‘Why am I going clubbing under your supervision?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll leave once we get some things done. And you can go have a happy night.’

‘Is this some other publicity stunt?’

‘Yes,’ says Changmin. ‘I’ll tell you on Friday.’

‘When it’s too late to back out,’ replies Jongdae, tone a little acidic.

It takes Changmin by surprise, but he shrugs it off. ‘Yes.’

The rest of the car ride goes in silence. When Changmin looks over, Jongdae’s eyes are half-lidded in thought as he watches the scenery go by. For the first time in a while, Jongdae doesn’t talk.

-

Changmin doesn’t really put thought into his appearance. He pulls on some jeans, a nice button-up, and makes sure to brush his teeth and shave. Yunho once bought him over-priced cologne, so he dabs it on before slipping on his nice pair of loafers and walking out the door.

At the parking garage, Jongdae is already standing there waiting. Always on time. He’s dressed differently, and there’s something off about him. Changmin doesn’t quite figure it out until Jongdae opens the passenger door and slips inside – wearing dark-washed jeans and a form fitting shirt with sleeves a little too long. It covers his wrists and makes his skin stand out, becoming a glowing beacon for someone to grab onto him, to touch, and it’s the same for his neck with the collar edging a little below his collarbones. Both his piercings are in, there are rings on his fingers, and his hair is untouched, soft-seeming. Right. He hasn’t ruined it with dyes and styling yet.

Then Jongdae looks at him and smiles, gesturing to himself with flourish. ‘So? This what Chen would wear?’ Ah. The kid was good at this image thing.

Changmin snorts, stepping on the accelerator as they clear the garage. ‘You look like jailbait.’

‘Perfect then.’

-

Seohyun is having a martini at the bar because she can. Changmin can respect that level of clichéd pretension. He gets a whiskey for the same reason.

‘Go have fun a little,’ he tells Jongdae, feeling like a parent dropping their kid off at school. Except school smells like sweat and booze, and the music doesn’t sound like it’s changed in the last five years. He was getting too old for the club scene.

Jongdae’s a fucking extrovert and everyone is a little tipsy, so Changmin watches in fascination as he makes friends with freakish speed. It helps that he looks like jailbait, Changmin supposes. Seohyun gestures vaguely to the dance floor. ‘There’s our Taeminnie.’

‘Let them enjoy their night first,’ he says. He rests his elbows on the bar and keeps an eye on Jongdae as he laughs with his new acquaintances. Jongdae sips at his drink slowly, careful to keep his glass in his hand. Maybe he’s cheap or a lightweight. Sobriety had been a rare sight in his predecessor – another difference, something to keep Changmin on this side of reality, remind him that this is _Jongdae_ , not –

Seohyun talks to Changmin as they kill time, hoping both their charges will at least be some level of tipsy before they’re called back. She’s only a year younger than him, sharp enough to keep up with the times. She tells him she got Taemin only two months back. ‘I can’t tell what his music genre is,’ she admits with a little laugh. ‘Is bad boy a genre? But it’s not rock. His song honestly has too much autotune in it.’

Finally, Changmin is pushing away from the bar and fetching Jongdae. He’s surrounded by three people, and though it’s been at least half an hour, Jongdae’s drink is only half-done. He’s taking this abysmally slow.

‘Sorry, can I steal him from you?’ interjects Changmin with a smile, and resists shying away when they all look him up and down. He reaches out and clasps Jongdae’s wrist, and realizes this is the first time he’s touched Jongdae. The first time he’s seen Jongdae as someone so _small_.

Jongdae goes with him willingly, plopping onto the stool at the bar right beside Changmin. ‘What’s up, hyung?’

‘Why aren’t you drinking?’

The question seems to catch him off-guard. Jongdae shrugs and puts his glass down, pushing it over to Changmin. ‘I don’t really like alcohol.’

Now _that_ surprises Changmin. ‘Really?’

‘I don’t like the feeling.’ Jongdae’s jaw is clenched, it’s clear he won’t say much else. Time to keep the plan moving anyway.

‘You see that kid over there – the blonde one?’ says Changmin. ‘His name is Taemin. You’re going to start a fight with him.’

‘What the hell?’ Jongdae is staring at him, disbelief on his face.

‘Bad boy rockstar Chen,’ says Changmin. ‘Goes to parties and starts shit.’

‘The fuck he does.’

‘It’ll be good for you. Don’t hurt Taemin’s face.’

Jongdae’s eyes narrow, lip curling back in distaste. ‘A drunken bar brawl. You want me to be on the cover of some cheap gossip magazine.’

‘Maybe you _should_ drink something,’ says Changmin, gaze skittering away from Jongdae entirely. He can feel Seohyun watching them, judging him like Jongdae should be following each and every one of his instructions. ‘The director told you to do as I say.’

‘The _director_ ,’ sneers Jongdae. He pushes off the bar. ‘Fine.’

Changmin should’ve expected this – but he still watches with wide eyes as Jongdae steps into the circle of Taemin’s personal space. Seohyun is beside him, fingers splayed out in nervousness over the bar. They’ll need to intervene if it gets awful.

Except it doesn’t get awful – Taemin’s pretty face stretches into a smile, and he inclines his head towards Jongdae, curls an arm around his waist. He introduces Jongdae to his friends that are around him – at least, that’s what Changmin assumes – because Jongdae is smiling with them, talking to them.

‘Ah. That works too,’ says Seohyun. ‘Flirting with the enemy.’

‘He would’ve probably broken his arm if he did punch anything,’ replies Changmin, leaning back against the bar, unable to even look at Seohyun when there’s Taemin’s mouth so close to Jongdae’s neck.

Jongdae is soft and pliant with Taemin, lets Taemin lead him around. Changmin can’t forget how _small_ Jongdae’s wrist felt under his hand, and even beside Taemin, he looks shorter and more delicate than usual.

There’s something tight in his stomach because of it, but he’s not foolish enough to actually poke and see what it is. Instead he waits until they get more attention, some recognition. Both of them sticking close – too close – to one another. Someone asks for pictures, there’s drinks passed around. It’s getting closer to midnight and the party has finally picked up.

Seohyun is picking up her purse half an hour later, ‘good enough. I’ll check the tabloids tomorrow.’

Changmin forces himself to follow her. He sits in a twenty four hour coffee shop to sober up, texting Kyuhyun to kill time, and forces himself to sit still and not to walk back into that club.

-

The magazines lick it up in a day.

Changmin is sitting cross-legged on Kyuhyun’s couch with a controller in his hands, watching the paused screen as Kyuhyun fucks around in the kitchen for alcohol, when he picks up his phone and looks at the online articles.

He sends Jongdae a link and a text underneath that says _told you it would work_.

Jongdae doesn’t reply. He doesn’t reply for days. Not until Tuesday, when Changmin sends a _meet me at_ _one on thursday_.

_okay_

It’s not the best answer he could’ve gotten, but Changmin is too relieved to care

-

Jongdae comes into the coffee shop without the peacoat. Instead the ugly-ass sweater of the day is on full display. It’s white with hideously bright multi-coloured geometrical patterns along the collar and shoulders.

He doesn’t bow, doesn’t order a drink. Instead, Jongdae strides between the tables and drops into the chair in front of Changmin, everything about him strung tight and expression unimpressed. This too is sickeningly familiar – every emotion that snaps itself onto Jongdae’s face having it’s equivalent in Changmin’s memory from too many years ago. It has Changmin want to move away, but he’s twenty-eight, he can handle some punk feeling rebellious.

‘What?’ he asks.

Jongdae leans back into his chair, eyes half-lidded and cold. ‘What do you want me to do now?’

That surprises him. ‘Nothing,’ says Changmin. ‘I wanted to check if you were okay.’

‘I’m fine. Can I leave now?’

‘Hey.’ Changmin shuts the lid of his laptop to better look at Jongdae. ‘What’s your problem?’

‘I’m fucking peachy, hyung.’ Even at twenty, Jongdae looks intimidating. It’s those cheekbones, the outer slant of his eyes – it makes him look predatory. Or maybe Changmin’s just projecting – projecting _him_ – that’s always been a fucking problem when he’s around Jongdae.

‘I get it – you didn’t want to do the thing on Friday, and I admit I should’ve talked to you about it beforehand,’ starts Changmin, trying desperately to find a way to get that damn expression off Jongdae’s face.

‘I did it and it helped, didn’t it?’ Jongdae’s not giving him a chance. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. ‘Or did you want me to tell you all the sordid details to you so you can sell those off too?’ Suddenly, he’s leaning forward, fingers splayed over the table, eyes not leaving Changmin. ‘Do you want to know if I kissed him, hyung? Do you want to know how I got on my knees and sucked his cock? Do you want me to tell you how he got his fingers in me and fucked – ’

‘Shut up, Jongdae.’

Jongdae snorts and leans back in his chair again. ‘So? What else?’

‘I won’t do it again,’ says Changmin after a pause. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Whatever, hyung. It’s your job.’ He gets up. ‘I have vocal training now.’ That’s a lie; Changmin knows he has training in an hour. ‘Message me when you want me to do whatever it is.’

‘Jongdae,’ calls Changmin but he’s left to watch Jongdae retreating back instead. He slumps back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face. That went fucking fantastic.

-

‘I’ll admit, I was happy you didn’t call me to bail anyone out of drunk and disorderly charges this weekend,’ says Yunho. ‘But now, I’m not happy seeing you cry all over my couch.’

‘I’m not going to fucking _cry_ ,’ snaps Changmin, curled up in a blanket and tucked up beside Yunho as a familiar movie plays. It’s the one Yunho knows makes Changmin calm down – they’ve seen it too many times by now for Changmin to deny the therapeutic effects.

‘Changmin-ah, talk to me,’ murmurs Yunho, a warm, soft presence beside him.

‘The short version is that I fucked up with Jongdae, and now he’s pissed at me, and I don’t know how to make it better.’ Changmin sucks in a breath and glares at Yunho. ‘This is what happens when you make _friends_.’

‘You say that as you sit on my couch,’ says Yunho. He turns back to the screen, giving Changmin a little privacy.

‘You know that’s not what I mean.’

‘I know, Changminnie.’

He makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. ‘None of my other idols – they _liked_ the attention. They _knew_ why I did what I did. They were ready do a few things – not a lot, I know there’s a limit with scandal. I’m fucking _good_ at my job. So why – fuck, why is Jongdae so – ’ Changmin presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. ‘I need him to be famous. I _need_ him to be successful.’

‘You’re projecting again.’

‘I know!’ Changmin softens his tone. ‘I’m sorry, I know. I know…’

Yunho curls an arm around Changmin’s shoulders and drags him into a hug. For a long while, Changmin doesn’t say anything. Eventually he falls asleep.

-

This is a completely asshole move, but Changmin does it anyway. A week after that disastrous meeting, he walks into the dressing room backstage, and Jongdae has nowhere to run. He has a real manager now, who greets Changmin. The sound of his name – ‘hey, Changmin, what are you doing here?’ – has Jongdae’s shoulders tense, but he stays obstinately silent as Changmin and his manager talk.

Jongdae’s manager is nice – Changmin likes Jonghyun. Jonghyun’s always been a good manager for the rookie idols, something about him being able to connect to the kids emotionally. It’s a trait that was so clearly missing from Changmin’s biography that his company didn’t even consider a manager position before he was assigned as a publicist.

Eventually, Changmin moves away and stands beside Jongdae, looking at their reflections. ‘They talked about my ears a lot,’ he says, lifting his fingers to flick at one of his lobes. ‘I have big, awkward ears. They could mock me about it forever if I let them.’ Jongdae doesn’t reply, but he’s watching, and that’s good enough. ‘When I look at you, Jongdae… I don’t see a single fucking thing they could tease you about.’

The compliment seems to catch Jongdae off-guard because he looks away, focusing his gaze on the coordi’s brush dusting on a little sparkle over his cheekbone.

‘Good luck today, but I know that you won’t need it.’ Changmin nods to him and leaves.

-

That night, he gets a text. _don’t corner me like that again._

 _I won’t_ , replies Changmin.

For a long time there’s nothing, and then: _we should have lunch again_

Changmin pulls up the copy of Jongdae’s schedule on his laptop, finding an open space on the weekend.

_I’ll come by at one on sunday_

-

It’s been almost two months since he’s been assigned Jongdae. It feels eons longer.

In the parking garage, Jongdae is wearing jeans and a grey hoodie, looking a little tired and fuzzy around the edges. His hair is mussed, looks windblown. Changmin hopes he hasn’t been running around in just a hoodie – couldn’t get sick this early in the game.

‘The hoodie is new,’ says Changmin when Jongdae gets into his car.

‘It’s mine,’ he replies. ‘S’why it’s so ugly.’

Changmin begs to differ. ‘Better than the sweaters.’

‘I like the sweaters,’ challenges Jongdae. ‘Hyung was nice enough to let me borrow them over the winter.’

‘You’ve been living in Seoul for two years and you still haven’t gotten yourself a wardrobe?’

‘I didn’t exactly have any disposable income until my debut.’

Changmin flinches. He should’ve known that. ‘Sorry.’

Jongdae makes an unimpressed noise. ‘Are you going to apologize for everything now?’

‘Until you feel better, yes.’

‘You’ll be apologizing for a long time then.’

The car rolls to a stop at a red light. ‘Did you call me out for a meal to be mad at me in person?’

That at least has Jongdae shift uncomfortably in his seat. ‘No.’ Changmin stays quiet, and eventually Jongdae clears his throat. ‘I’m not mad. I’m – I’m scared. Fuck, hyung, you scare me a lot.’

The light turns green, and they keep moving. ‘If you think I’m going to use my job to destroy your career, you’d be wrong.’

Jongdae lapses back into silence, so Changmin turns on the radio. Eventually, Jongdae reaches over and fiddles with it, finds a station that pleases him until he’s humming under his breath, forehead pressed against the glass of the passenger-side window.

-

Awkward isn’t exactly the word for the atmosphere between them. Awkward is too high school, too superficial. There’s something that Changmin’s missing when he looks at Jongdae, but then again… he can’t even see Jongdae on most days. _You’re projecting_.

‘I’m twenty-eight and I’m scared of a bunch of shit too, y’know.’ They’ve ordered their food already and Changmin’s eager to fill in the silence. He doesn’t think he can handle a quiet Jongdae, not when he reminisces with something like quiet contentment thinking of the last meal they shared. The way Jongdae talked, gestured, laughed.

Jongdae is looking out the window, the May sunshine slip-sliding over the bridge of his nose, illuminating his long lashes. ‘I shouldn’t have been such a brat that time – the day after the club thing. In the coffeeshop. Sorry, hyung.’

‘You know you had every right to be upset.’

‘No.’ Jongdae shakes his head, looks at Changmin. ‘You’re doing your job, and I wouldn’t have shown up if you told me in advance. I know you want me to be successful, even under company orders.’

‘That’s not…’ says Changmin, but hesitates and lets his voice die. He looks at the edges of the table instead, counts the four corners, and pretends he’s not hyper-aware of every sound Jongdae makes.

‘I listened to your songs,’ he says. ‘Do you know how amazing your voice is?’

‘I wouldn’t have debuted without it,’ says Changmin dryly.

‘But you still didn’t make it.’

The words prick at Changmin’s skin. ‘That’s not going to be you.’

‘I know.’ Jongdae laughs, humourless, and looks at Changmin. ‘Because I have you – always keeping me relevant, shoving my name in the public eye. Talented kids don’t make it, but entertaining kids do.’

Oh – that’s what this was. ‘You didn’t debut because you were entertaining, Jongdae. You debuted because you have a damn good voice. You know that.’

‘I _debuted_ because of my voice,’ he says. ‘But I’m _famous_ cause I – no, _Chen_ , starts shit. Talks badly of his sunbaes, gets all slutty and drunk in clubs with company rivals. What else will I have to do to keep singing? Because obviously singing’s not enough.’

For a long moment, Jongdae looks like a child – small and scared, eyes imploring and jaw clenched. He’s tasted his dream, he wants to sing, but there’s a price to pay. The terror is electric, crackling around Jongdae, and Changmin just wants to reach over and touch him, ground him. He keeps his hands to himself.

‘When you think about your predecessor,’ says Changmin quietly, ‘do you remember his scandals or his voice?’

Jongdae’s expression closes up and he looks down at his lap. ‘Voice.’ He sounds like a kid who’s just been scolded.

‘Talent outweighs scandal, trust me. Scandal is just a boost to get you on your way. By the time you’re well and famous, your every move will become a scandal without you doing anything. So, you won’t have to pull things like this again. The world will do it for you.’

‘That’s such shit advice, hyung.’

‘I’m not going to sugarcoat this for you, Jongdae.’

‘I know.’ Jongdae runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it up a little more.

‘Have you talked to Jjong about this?’ asks Changmin. ‘Sorry, Jonghyun.’

Jongdae looks up, bewildered. ‘Manager-hyung? Not at all.’

‘I heard he’s better at this sort of stuff. Apparently he always gives good advice.’

‘I trust you.’ He says it with complete, guileless conviction, and it digs somewhere deep in Changmin’s chest. He sucks in a breath of surprise and feels himself floundering to reply, but it’s hopeless.

Instead, he feels too young when he says, ‘thank you,’ and falls silent. Jongdae is still watching him – maybe gauging for a better reaction, something else that fully encompasses the warmth that has washed over Changmin, made his shoulders droop in relief. Changmin tries again, ‘That director thing, the company – this being my job and all – that’s not – I want… I want you to succeed for you. Not anything else.’ It’s only half a lie.

‘Changmin-hyung, my biggest fan,’ grins Jongdae, instantly dissipating the atmosphere. It has Changmin breathing easy, glad that Jongdae can still smile even with all of this suddenly piled on his small frame.

‘You’re a brat,’ he says, voice soft and warm. Jongdae ducks his head, shy and pleased at the lack of Changmin’s denial to the title.

The meal goes well, maybe better than usual.

-

The ‘usual’ in Changmin’s job’s terms is a series of three publicity stunts.

The first – draw attention to yourself by talking about someone famous. Heechul did quite well in that regard. His fan following is outrageous, but Chen has a pretty face too. He gets fans in less than a few hours. Enough to draw the spotlight towards him.

Then they wait a while. Jongdae doesn’t need to pull any shit as he starts his round of promotions through the televised stages and radio interviews. People start picking up on his voice, his face, his aesthetic. He gets a few more fans. Fansites spring up, if they haven’t already.

In the middle of promotions, Changmin has to shine the spotlight bright. Blind the audience. The second stunt should have been a drunken brawl. At least a verbal row. Something to establish a rival, get things interesting. Like Chen is making a name for himself in this idol world and he’s already prepared to challenge someone as rookie of the year. Instead, Chen pulls a sluttier stunt. Not quite a dating scandal – they’re rivals, after all, which is the more interesting angle.

The second half of promotions continue, people who saw his name in a tabloid now get to watch him stand on stage and wail his pretty little heart out. Chen’s name is gaining momentum now, a snowball effect helped along by both singing and scandal.

The third and last publicity stunt can wait for now. Changmin doesn’t think about it as he follows Chen’s progress through the charts and the internet. It’s good – some of his best work. No one would forget Chen’s name by the time this year was out. It’s good he debuted in spring, because summer was primetime for concerts. They’d start featuring him on stage with others.

The director calls him in once: ‘When will you finish this up?’

Changmin licks his lips, and lies through his teeth: ‘I haven’t made a list of candidates for the last event. Once I get it done, I’ll let you know.’

Chen has to make it. He has to. There is no other choice.

-

‘Am I projecting if it’s not _me_ that I see in Jongdae?’ says Changmin, splayed on his stomach on Kyuhyun’s couch, idly flipping through Kyuhyun’s ever-growing collection of Mandarin textbooks. The fuck was Kyuhyun going to do with Mandarin, honestly.

‘Don’t fucking lie to me,’ snorts Kyuhyun as he walks into the living room wearing an abysmally styled three piece suit. ‘So?’

‘I’m glad to know none of my friends know how to dress themselves,’ replies Changmin, cringing.

‘Fuck you,’ says Kyuhyun and walks off.

‘Nothing to be ashamed of – Minho has a personal soccer stylist and he still walks around looking like a tool. What chance did you have, really?’

‘Shut up and tell me about your love affair with Chen,’ calls out Kyuhyun from the bedroom next door as he changes.

Changmin rolls his eyes but turns over on his back, staring at the ceiling. ‘Jongdae’s so much like… like _him_ , already. Even at twenty.’

‘Are you feeling bitter about it? Because you debuted under his shadow?’ _And then crashed and burned_ is left unsaid.

‘They basically have the same fucking music video; they both have these voices – and this… fucking confidence. And I know Jongdae is faking it, he’s still a nervous rookie – but he’s good at it. Better than me. So much more like him.’ Kyuhyun walks back out with black slacks and blue button up. Changmin makes a face. ‘This isn’t high school, wear a tie and find a jacket.’

‘Fine,’ says Kyuhyun and disappears again. ‘So you want Jongdae to succeed because _you_ didn’t, and you also want him to succeed because…?’

‘Because it makes me feel good.’ Changmin laughs to himself, bitter. ‘Because _he_ dragged me down, and now – I have this chance. Only I can lift him up. _He_ depends on _me_.’

‘Changmin, Jongdae’s not him.’

That was the fucking problem. ‘Jongdae’s not me neither.’

‘So? Who is he?’

Changmin doesn’t know.

-

The first thing Changmin thinks of when he asks himself that question is: _small_.

He’s suddenly struck, more and more, with the urge to _touch_. Jongdae is always respectful about distances in public, especially around his elders. Changmin’s never seen him with his friends – he imagines Jongdae must be a little freer then – less reserved and strung tight, less intense about everything that passes through his mouth carefully filtered: _polite, but not too polite, no Jongdae words,_ _use Chen words_.

It’s not like he can just reach over and touch – take his arm or his hand, press a palm on the small of his back. _Why not?_ asks Yunho’s voice in his head. Because... because…

It’s been three months and only now is Changmin realizing that this has all been for himself. Chen’s fame is Changmin’s private drug, gives him a high of power over a past that still sometimes pricks at him when he’s least expecting it. None of this, none of him, has been for _Jongdae_.

Still, Jongdae looks at him with warmth and sincerity, says ‘I trust you,’ and Changmin feels like he’s tricking the kid. Then again, he doesn’t know anything about Jongdae.

In the beginning, Changmin had received a profile – full of facts like his birthday and birthplace and name of his family. These facts don’t hold to Jongdae – they’re just _facts_. They’re not traits and personality and the private facets of his expressions.

He _wants_ to learn these things, don’t get him wrong, but more than that, Changmin wants to fucking _touch_. Yunho’s always told him he’s been a little too sharp with words, but he’s good at smoothing the barbs out with his fingers. He wants to cover up his manipulation with hands pressed against Jongdae, ease him because Changmin’s mouth is a fool and his tongue a complete mess.

There’s never a good excuse. Changmin considers asking him for a meal and drinks, the alcohol would let Changmin curl his fingers around Jongdae’s wrist, hold him in place. Except he remembers: _I don’t_ _like alcohol; I don’t like the feeling_.

‘Why don’t you like drinking?’ It’s so different from _him_ , the idea of it so strange and novel.

Jongdae’s on his stool in the studio as the staff get the radio interview set up. Changmin had flashed his company staff ID and ducked in behind Jongdae, thinking he can at least stay close, if nothing else.

‘I don’t like the feeling,’ he replies, spinning around in his stool, dressed in printed shirt and leather jacket over the top. Apparently they filmed radio interviews now too, so Jongdae had to look the part. ‘It’s uncomfortable being unable to… control yourself. Like, I could say anything, or do anything, without even thinking about it. Some people like that sort of freedom, but I take it pretty badly.’ He laughs. ‘I think I’m a sullen drunk.’

A little part of Changmin wants to see that – uninhibited Jongdae. For now he hums, sliding this part away in a mental folder titled Kim Jongdae. He wants to keep pressing, keep talking, but this is enough for now. At least he’s starting to learn, months too late.

-

‘You should tell him,’ says Yunho.

‘About how I’m a complete asshole?’ Changmin has Yunho’s head pillowed in his lap and he combs his fingers through the soft hair. ‘You’re overdue for a cut.’

‘Don’t change the subject.’

‘You’re the one who asked _me_ here.’

‘I wanted company and your food,’ admits Yunho with a guilt-free grin. They’re waiting for the timer on the stove to go off, and Yunho manhandled him here because he’s a lazy ass. Changmin pokes him in the cheek, trying not to laugh. ‘There’s another option.’

‘Which is…?’

‘You quit.’ Yunho is watching him. ‘It’s not like the industry is running out of idols to promote, and you _are_ good at what you do. Someone would hire you in a heartbeat. And there are other publicists – Ryeowook’s free, he could take over for Jongdae.’

‘Really? He finished up with that Kyungsoo kid?’

‘Changmin,’ says Yunho, voice sharp. Changmin shuts up and looks away. ‘All this is doing is bringing up bad memories for you. Maybe Jongdae isn’t good for you.’

-

So it’s been four months. That’s a good run, right?

Changmin parks his car and then texts Jongdae. _come down to the garage_

_give me five. everything okay hyung?_

He doesn’t reply to that. Instead, he gets out of the driver’s seat and sits in the back, closing his eyes and waiting. Ever punctual, five minutes later there’s a knock on the window, and Jongdae opens the door before sitting beside Changmin, looking at him.

‘I’m guessing we’re not going anywhere,’ he says, gesturing to the back seat. ‘Changmin-hyung?’

Changmin runs a hand through his hair before sighing, looking at him. ‘I didn’t know where else to have this conversation.’

‘Your coffee shop?’ offers Jongdae.

‘I... didn’t think of that,’ says Changmin slowly. Another lie. He just wanted an excuse to feel Jongdae’s presence next to his, even for a moment. ‘Should we go there then?’

‘Its fine,’ dismisses Jongdae, looking up at him curiously. ‘You okay?’

‘I think I’m going to quit.’

‘What? From your job entirely?’

‘No.’ Changmin forces his mouth to move. ‘From you. I can’t work with you anymore.’

Jongdae is quiet, leaning back, watching him. He’s surprised, but more than that, he’s hurt. ‘Right.’

‘It’s cliché, but – trust me, it’s not you, it’s me.’

‘I’m sure.’ Jongdae is moving away, but not out of the car. Not yet. That’s a good sign.

‘It’s – I used you. I’m _using_ you,’ corrects Changmin. ‘To make myself feel better. It’s been fucking _years_ , but I look at you and a little part of me, I think, gets jealous.’

‘You’re awfully helpful for someone who’s jealous,’ replies Jongdae slowly.

‘That’s because… you depend on me.’ He wants this conversation to end already. He wants to sink into his seat and never come out again. He wants Jongdae to yell and get upset – not feel that cool anger, the silent creeping one that threatens to choke Changmin.

‘That’s fucked up, hyung,’ says Jongdae finally.

‘Yeah,’ says Changmin. ‘I fucked up. So I’m going to quit.’

‘Why did you even tell me?’

The memory of Jongdae, so uncertain and scared, even under the light, flashes through Changmin’s head. ‘You were honest with me back then – when you got nervous about your fame. I thought I could at least return the favour.’

He doesn’t expect Jongdae to come closer, to sit beside him with their arms touching, the warmth of Jongdae’s body seeping through the sleeve of Changmin’s sweater. ‘So you’ve figured out you’ve fucked up, you’ve admitted you’ve fucked up, and now you’re going to run away instead of – what? Trying to fix things? What the hell, hyung.’

It’s a scold from a kid eight years younger than him. Changmin laughs, unable to help it, feeling a wave of relief loosen the knot of uncertainty in his chest. ‘You’re such a fucking brat.’

‘You say that, but you wouldn’t have it any other way,’ says Jongdae. He reaches over, threads his fingers between Changmin’s, and squeezes in comfort.

Changmin looks down at the touch in surprise, seeing how his hand envelops Jongdae’s own. ‘You’re so small,’ he blurts out. ‘How the fuck are you so small?’

‘Look, I know I’m short,’ starts Jongdae, trying to draw away his hand, but Changmin holds fast. Doesn’t want to let go.

‘It’s not that.’ Well, it sort of is, but that’s not Changmin’s point. ‘You make yourself look way too big for someone who started working out like a month ago.’

‘A _year_ ago,’ snaps Jongdae. ‘Are you done being an asshole?’

‘No,’ replies Changmin cheekily. He feels a little drunk – on relief, on the fact that they can still talk like this, on how warm Jongdae is next to him. ‘Look at this.’ He’s taking a risk as he pulls his hand away from Jongdae’s before draping his arm around Jongdae’s shoulders, tucking him close. ‘You just fit.’

Jongdae hums. ‘Hyung, you’re really touchy, aren’t you?’

Instantly, Changmin tries to draw away, ‘right, unprofessional, sorry,’ but Jongdae has a hold on Changmin’s wrist all of a sudden, keeping his arm right where it is.

‘Even if you’re not, I am,’ he says.

‘I guessed. When you were with Taemin, you were so comfortable with him.’ Changmin blinks slowly, remembering. ‘I’m still sorry about that.’

‘I didn’t…’ Jongdae hesitates. ‘When I talked to Taemin, I told him what you and Seohyun-noona had planned, but he already knew. So we just agreed on the fly to change it up a little. I didn’t do anything with him.’

‘Jongdae, you don’t have to report back to me about your personal life,’ says Changmin quietly. ‘That’s none of my business.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘My business is your fake, fantasy personal life.’

‘The one you make up.’

He shrugs. ‘Basically. I’ve already planned out all the sordid details of that one; you don’t have to worry about it.’

‘What’s next then?’

The question surprises Changmin. ‘You don’t like doing this stuff, so I’m not going to make you.’

‘So there _is_ something else,’ says Jongdae. He has a self-satisfied grin on his face, pleased that he caught Changmin.

‘Nevermind, I’m quitting because you’re such a brat,’ replies Changmin flatly. ‘Have fun with your next publicist.’

Jongdae laughs, his entire body vibrating with it. Changmin can feel it sinking into him, the sound and the feel and the warmth of it. He doesn’t want to leave. Still, Jongdae is persistent if nothing else. ‘We don’t have to do it, hyung, but you can tell me.’

Changmin hums, giving in. ‘The last and best scandal of all is the dating scandal.’ He moves his hand from around Jongdae’s shoulders to card his fingers through Jongdae’s hair as he thinks, the repetitive motion easing him. Jongdae makes a pleased sound, eyes fluttering shut, when Changmin’s fingers scratch lightly right behind his ear. He was like some overgrown cat.

‘So? Who do I date?’ asks Jongdae, head tilting into Changmin’s hand, eyes still closed.

‘Since you’re a rookie, in order to get attention, you’ll need to date someone who is talented, well-established and completely, utterly out of your league.’

‘Oh good, so I’m going to date you then,’ says Jongdae. Changmin’s fingers freeze, and Jongdae whines in the back of his throat, nudging at Changmin’s hand for more, except it isn’t working. He looks up at Changmin, ‘hyung, c’mon.’

‘I – no. No. You’re not... you’re not going to date me,’ manages Changmin, caught completely off-guard. There’s something he should add, like ‘as flattering as that thought is’ or ‘is that what you think of me,’ but he’s quiet instead, fingers back to scratching that sweet spot behind Jongdae’s ear.

‘Too bad. I like you, hyung.’ It’s all said in the most carefree tone, like he doesn’t care about the consequences. ‘Wouldn’t mind if everyone knew that.’

‘Stop talking,’ says Changmin. Jongdae opens his eyes to look up at him, gaze more discerning than any twenty year old should be – any _normal_ person should be.

‘Was that too unprofessional?’ he asks.

‘Don’t you have a schedule?’

‘It _was_ , then.’

‘Jongdae.’

‘Changmin-hyung,’ he says right back, not missing a beat. ‘You can pick whoever you want for my fake life, but I’d offer you my real personal life too. Even if you are a little fucked up and manipulative.’

The jab makes Changmin cringe. ‘Only for you.’

‘See? I’m already special in your eyes.’ Jongdae is pulling away now, opening the door on his side. He looks over his shoulder. ‘Don’t quit. Please.’

‘I won’t,’ says Changmin, feeling honest for the first time in a long while. Jongdae shoots him a relieved smile and gets out of the car.

-

Jongdae starts taking… liberties with him. Like he’s finally gotten permission or something. Unspoken consent. Changmin is always surprised by it.

He walks into a dressing room, and Jongdae’s already made up, talking to Jonghyun, who is giving him pointers. He scheduled to do an opening for Heechul, some other song that’s less rock and more croon, but Chen will make it work.

‘Jjong, Jongdae,’ greets Changmin. Jonghyun waves to him before he starts hustling the staff for specific details of this and that. Meanwhile, Jongdae comes over, grasping Changmin’s hand as he grins.

‘Have you ever heard this song?’ asks Jongdae as he pulls them towards the couch and when they sit, Changmin feels his knees knock against Jongdae’s. ‘I think it’s fucking awful, but I guess this is management’s choice, not mine.’ He continues talking, aimless ramblings, and Changmin is struck by how _close_ Jongdae places himself. How unafraid he is to touch and take.

It happens over and over again. When Changmin checks up on him in the vocal studio, Jongdae’s there, and so are his hands, flitting over Changmin’s sides and arms. When Changmin finds himself sitting on the waiting room couch, Jongdae leans his head against the other’s shoulder, without even a warning. When Changmin drives him home from somewhere, Jongdae threads their fingers together and rests them on his thigh. ‘Jongdae, I need two hands to drive,’ says Changmin, but Jongdae snipes at him instead and holds on. He lets go when Changmin absolutely needs it, and takes it back as soon as possible.

Maybe it’s some new form of seduction technique: close, closer, press, pressing, warm, warmer. Changmin has the semi-hysterical thought that Jongdae doesn’t even need to seduce him, but he kicks that one away. That wouldn’t help either of them.

-

‘Maybe you should let him,’ says Kyuhyun. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

‘For one, he’s like ten years younger than me,’ says Changmin. ‘That’s a problem.’

‘Age is just a number,’ he replies airily.

‘Shut up and eat your damn food.’

Changmin’s cooked this meal so it’s fucking great, and Kyuhyun lets him know twice, before he’s back on topic: ‘I’m not saying on your first date you should fuck him in the backseat of your car,’ and it makes Changmin choke on a slice of carrot.

After he’s recovered, Kyuhyun doesn’t even give him a break. ‘He’ll revitalize your youth or something. Maybe teach you how to have fun.’

‘That’s a filthy lie, I am plenty fun.’ Or else Kyuhyun wouldn’t be friends with him.

Kyuhyun nods. ‘Okay, fine. You like him, you think he’s pretty and talented and interesting and – man, do you want me to go on cause this is going to get gross.’

‘I just want you to shut up,’ says Changmin.

‘You come into _my_ house, you ask for _my_ advice, and you have the audacity to not even listen to it.’ Kyuhyun’s got his eyebrows in his haughty, holier-than-thou stare. It makes Changmin’s lip curl back in annoyance.

‘Fine.’

‘You should just try it.’ It sounds so simple, laid out like that.

-

He doesn’t get too far with the dating thing, mostly because he’s dodging the director’s questions of, ‘when is Chen going to have his dating scandal?’ and Changmin isn’t suicidal enough to reply, ‘after I figure out how to date him myself.’

August is the height of summer. Chen still wears the ridiculously tight pants, but they’ve been giving him slinkier and slinkier tank tops. A tattoo artist comes in and does him up with some fakes, pretty patterns all up his bicep that’s been looking a bit thicker than before.

He looks even more feline once the stylists figure out the perfect amount of eyeliner. It looks good. Good enough to smear everywhere. Changmin coughs and looks away. He’ll perform two songs today on the outdoor stage – one his own single, and another cover. Vaguely, Changmin wonders when Chen will start doing the covers of songs of his predecessor, when he will transform himself into an artist even more sleek and dangerous than _he_ was.

The coordis don’t know what to do with his hair, one of them laughing, ‘what does ‘morning-after’ look like?’ The other one shrugs, giggling behind a hand. They leave it alone for now. ‘You look plenty fine for now, Jongdae-ah.’

‘Thank you,’ he says as he hops off his stool. He’s wearing some knock-off army boots painted black with little white studs adorning them. There’s a little heel to them, makes Jongdae’s legs look even longer. The front of his tank top is tucked into his jeans to show off the obnoxious belt he’s wearing, fake gold and jewels stamped on the buckle.

‘So?’ he asks Changmin, walking around in a circle. ‘Acceptable rock star wear?’

‘You look like jailbait.’

‘You keep saying that,’ drawls Jongdae. ‘But you’re still looking.’ His eyes are so much sharper with the makeup – Changmin has to clench his jaw to keep from doing _something_.

This fucking kid. He moves away to the door, ‘I’ll be backstage,’ but Jongdae is already there, hand on his wrist.

‘Follow me.’

‘No?’ says Changmin, but goes along anyway.

He should’ve seen this coming. Jongdae hustles them both in the private washroom, kicking the door closed behind him and flipping the lock.

‘Jongdae,’ starts Changmin, before he has an armful of Jongdae, so fucking small as he looks up, eyes wide and wanting and mouth already open.

‘Didn’t you hear them, hyung?’ says Jongdae. ‘I need to look fucked.’

‘ _Brat_ ,’ snarls Changmin before he’s meeting Jongdae halfway, kissing him wet and sloppy. Jongdae scrabbles for a grip on his shoulders, presses himself closer. With another noise, Changmin has his hands under Jongdae’s thighs, lifting him so Jongdae’s back slams against the wall beside the door, his legs hooked over Changmin’s hips.

‘Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,’ laughs out Jongdae breathlessly, moaning when Changmin cups his ass and makes them grind together. ‘More, more.’

‘You’re fucking noisy,’ says Changmin, licking a trail down Jongdae’s neck, liking the little shivers he gets. No hickeys, he has a performance, but later, fuck, _later_.

‘Shut me up,’ he replies, and – well. Changmin has a hand on Jongdae’s neck, angling his face so Changmin can fuck his tongue into Jongdae’s mouth, taste Jongdae’s moans for himself, along with all that lust and desperation and adrenaline.

Jongdae’s nails dig into Changmin’s shoulders, makes little bites of pain go straight to his cock, and he just wants – wants –

Something starts vibrating. They break the kiss, Jongdae unhooking one of his hands to pull out his phone that he’s somehow stuffed into the back pocket of his impossibly tight pants. ‘Shit, it’s time, I need to go.’

Changmin lowers him down slowly, and makes a pleased noise at how Jongdae looks now – mouth bitten red and wet, his pupils blown and eyes half-lidded. His hair’s a bit of a mess now – good. That fixed that.

Unable to help it, Changmin leans down and kisses him again, light and slow. Jongdae shivers underneath him. ‘Go – you’ll do fine. More than fine.’

‘This isn’t over, hyung,’ says Jongdae, flipping the lock on the door and leaving in a flurry.

It never is, thinks Changmin as he wills down his half-hard cock and goes looking for a place to watch the performance.

-

Honestly, Changmin doesn’t expect he’ll even need to pull off a dating scandal when Jongdae’s doing fine on his own. Once the first wave of attention came, it was an unstoppable tide, keeping tangential track of the rookie that was moving around in the ocean of other idols.

Of course, the moment he considers that thought, it goes to hell.

He’s at a bar with Minho and one of his friends when his phone lights up with a notification. Changmin’s a little buzzed from his third beer, feeling warm, as Minho regales them with a point-by-point explanation as to why his rival soccer team was the worst ever, and opens up his e-mail idly.

It’s from Jonghyun – a copy of Jongdae’s schedule for the next week. Minho peers over at him, voice goading. ‘Hyung, let’s see what’s making you smile.’

Changmin doesn’t even realize it and blinks up in surprise at him. ‘A work e-mail.’

It makes the both of them laugh, and Changmin can’t help but duck his head in embarrassment a little. He opens up the schedule, looking over the variety show pre-recordings that he already knows about amongst two performances –

No, Jongdae only had one performance this week. He pockets the phone for now and tries to focus on Minho and his friend – it’s rare that Minho indulges in beer due to his professional athlete diet, which means it’s rare for Changmin to meet up with him like this. He needs to savour this.

They part a couple hours later, and Changmin takes a cab home. He opens up the schedule again and realizes what this means. ‘Some asshole publicist is using my client for themselves,’ he snarls out. The driver hums in sympathy and tells him how much he owes.

-

That week, Changmin storms into the venue an hour before rehearsals, but it’s still too late. On the couch in the dressing room, Jongdae is texting someone on his phone. There’s a girl beside him, her arm thrown around his shoulders. She’s blonde and familiar with the bright red lipstick and pretty rings on her fingers.

Changmin pauses in his warpath. ‘Soojung? You’re already here?’

Soojung looks up from her phone at him and grins, ‘Changmin-oppa!’ Jongdae is watching them both curiously.

With another cursory glance around the dressing room, Changmin looks back at her. ‘I didn’t see Song Qian here.’

‘I’m not here with unnie.’

‘She’s with me,’ sing-songs another from behind the open door of the dressing room, and Changmin already feels a headache coming on. ‘Changmin-ah, how have you been?’

Soonkyu is still short and still annoyingly peppy, her hair pulled back in a ponytail so her expressions come out full-force. She’s smiling now, eyes wide and bright, line of teeth so shiny white, looking utterly harmless and adorable. Changmin knows better.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing with Jongdae?’

‘Well,’ starts Soonkyu slowly. ‘A little birdy told me you teamed up with Seohyun for those Taemin and Chen rumours. I thought we could have some fun together too.’

‘Seohyun actually talked to me beforehand.’

‘I talked to Jjong, same thing, right?’

‘This is going to turn into a fucking dating scandal.’

‘Probably. I hope it doesn’t, because I still haven’t figured out a name for them. Krystal and Chen... It just doesn’t flow together very well.’ Her bottom lip juts out in pseudo-distress. ‘What do you think?’

It’s too late to cancel and Soonkyu knows this, peering up at him like she didn’t make sure everything went according to her plan. Well, he didn’t get this far without being able to pull off some things of his own. ‘I have a call to make.’

‘Have fun!’

-

Soojung is an actress first before her dancing and singing talents are ‘discovered’. The company hides her years of training under her new label of Krystal, and throw her to the sharks. Luckily, she has Soonkyu, who is just as good as Changmin in making sure her clients stay afloat and then learn to swim.

Changmin has some grudging admiration for his own people – Ryeowook’s loaded list of contacts, Seohyun’s extensive pre-planning, Soonkyu’s quick wittedness – but it’s always such a fucking pain when they’re pitted against each other.

The stage goes as expected. Krystal is in knee-high boots with thick heels, following her choreography seamlessly, working the audience the way she’s known for years. Chen comes out soon after, just a quick cameo, dressed in all white to contrast Krystal’s all black. They look good, except Chen’s a little on the short side and Krystal’s act is to be dismissive.

Changmin is standing beside Soonkyu backstage when Soonkyu snorts under her breath, looking at the audience. ‘You’re such an asshole.’

‘I’m not letting you start a dating scandal with _my_ client,’ he tells her, following her line of sight. Donghae is glaring right back at where he knows they’re standing backstage, looking pissed off as he stands beside two obscenely tall teenagers. Cameras are flashing in his direction.

‘Aren’t there already pairing names for one of them?’ says Changmin, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice. ‘Kai and Krystal. That rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? Maybe there’ll be a Sehun and Krystal pairing name out soon.’

‘You are _such_ an asshole.’

-

‘You owe me,’ says Donghae. ‘Do you know how much of a _pain_ it is to get them out of the dorms while looking acceptable?’

‘I owe you, hyung,’ assures Changmin, looking over his shoulder as Jongdae and Soojung make easy conversation with Jongin and Sehun as they all gather in the dressing room after the performance. Kai and Sehun are some duo that Donghae is touting around – probably against his will if it weren’t for the paycheck – in the early promoting stages. They wouldn’t debut until next year. ‘Thanks for not bringing the manager.’ It looked more convincing that way.

‘I know how to do my job.’

‘It’s why I called you,’ says Changmin, sucking up. Donghae sighs, weak to it. Only a beat later, Soonkyu appears, throwing an arm around Donghae’s waist, just a little on the painful side.

‘Fancy seeing you here,’ she says, smile tight at the corners.

‘We publicists need to stick together,’ grins Donghae and yelps as she elbows him in the stomach. Changmin doesn’t even bother muffling his laughter.

-

The rumours are all scrambled up. Sehun and Kai snuck out to see Krystal perform. Krystal picked Chen as her cameo to make the duo jealous. The best one is where Krystal got tired of being with tall guys, and she thought to try it out with Chen. Either way, the dating scandal is a wreck and Chen gets some spotlight out of it, thankfully not detracting from the main event of Krystal and her assumed love triangle.

Unfortunately, that also means that Changmin is forced to go through with the dating scandal. Chen’s name is overtaken by the other rookies in the sea – Krystal, Sehun, Kai. Somewhere else, Seohyun is going to throw Taemin under the spotlight again soon. Who knew where the other idols were going to show up as well – Changmin _needed_ to keep Chen relevant.

After the entire disaster with Soonkyu, Jongdae texts him once, afterwards: _how do you know soojung?_

Right. About that.

‘You could lie to him,’ says Kyuhyun, putting a piece of meat on the grill. ‘Co-starred on a show or something way back when you debuted.’

‘I would’ve been, like, ten,’ says Soojung, leaning her head on Song Qian’s shoulder, their fingers tangled together in her lap.

‘People can be friends with ten year olds,’ defends Kyuhyun. He’s not paying attention to the meat, so Changmin has to save it, looking up across the table at Song Qian who is busy with the vegetables. She looks up at him, expression unimpressed.

‘What?’ he asks, affronted.

Song Qian huffs. ‘When are your people going to give Soojung-ah a dating scandal with a girl?’

‘When you guys break up, so never?’

‘Unnie’s just upset that I have to hang out with so many boys all the time,’ says Soojung airily. ‘But it’s sort of fun getting them to do what I want.’

‘You’re the worst,’ mentions Kyuhyun.

‘Thanks.’

‘I don’t see you giving your little boyfriend any dating scandals with other boys either,’ says Song Qian as she cooks the mushrooms through to perfection.

Changmin’s too busy choking on air, so Kyuhyun covers for him: ‘If that happens, our best friend would probably die in a duel over Chen’s honour.’

‘Why am I in some historical drama? Why am I _losing_?’

‘Because your life _is_ a drama and you’re pathetic,’ answers Song Qian primly, passing out the lettuce and vegetables onto everyone’s plates. ‘Are you done with the beef yet?’

‘Unnie’s getting so much better at insults now,’ says Soojung proudly.

-

Changmin figures he’s pretty much done with lying to Jongdae and texts back: _actually soojung is dating_ _one of my best friends_. Jongdae sends back a string of winking emojis and a plea for details, to which Changmin replies with an emphatic _shut up_. Already, he can hear Jongdae laughing on the other end, and it has him grinning to himself.

-

Publicists aren’t involved in any of the technicalities of their client’s careers. Though Changmin has hung around the studios sometimes to talk to Jonghyun, he focuses on other things, like trying to navigate the entire idol entertainment industry.

It’s a bit surprising, then, when Jonghyun e-mails him with a rough outline of what promotions will look like through September and October. It explains Jongdae’s unusual quietness, and bruises pressed under his eyes that are ever so skillfully hidden with concealer, the languor of his gestures. The company moved fast – six months after debut and they were already going to drop a mini-album. Jongdae must’ve exhausted himself with recording.

It’s good timing, makes Chen relevant until at least mid-October and he can probably safely disappear for the Christmas season. Unless the company already had some carols for him to sing. Changmin hopes not – the composition of those songs were always terrible.

All that was missing was the gap of November before the end of the year awards show. The awards show that he was going to make Chen win, no matter what. That meant he’d have to attract the critics’ eyes on Chen one last time. And of course, a dating scandal would be the best way to get his name out there.

He pulls up his list of big name idols to use and sighs. Time to get to work.

-

There’s a break between mid-August and September where Jongdae’s schedule is thankfully empty and Changmin hopes the kid is sleeping now. Yunho scolds him for a little while for not taking care of ‘your tiny boyfriend.’

‘I’m his _publicist_ ,’ says Changmin, wondering when his friends will understand.

‘Do you think Donghae kisses Sehun in bathrooms?’ points out Yunho as Changmin knots a tie around his neck.

‘Ryeowook might have with Kyungsoo,’ says Changmin. Yunho stares at him, unimpressed. ‘What Jongdae does in his time is none of my business.’ He finishes up with the tie and steps back, nodding in approval at the suit Yunho’s wearing. ‘Much better.’

‘Thank you.’ Yunho fixes his cufflinks as they both walk to the closet beside the door. ‘What about a date?’

‘He has a very busy schedule.’

‘Changmin-ah,’ says Yunho in despair. ‘Why are you so unromantic?’

‘Hurry up and get your shoes or else we’ll be late,’ says Changmin, ignoring him. Couldn’t be late to the end of the fiscal term company parties.

-

The ballroom is full and some idols and bands have shown up, ready to schmooze up to the company higher-ups and shareholders. Yunho avoids the alcohol and instead flits around smiling and laughing to various conversations, while Changmin goes looking for Kyuhyun.

‘Hyung,’ calls out Jongdae, not even a minute later. Changmin looks over, seeing Jongdae dressed in a well-tailored black suit with a ridiculous tie around his neck. He can’t help but laugh, trying to cover it up in a cough, but Jongdae notices. ‘What was that?’

‘What is this?’ asks Changmin, gesturing to the tie that’s really just a long piece of silk ribbon that’s been knotted into a bowtie and hanging limply over the white button up.

‘I like it,’ he pouts.

‘Of course you do.’ Under the ballroom lighting, Jongdae looks a little bit more well-rested; his eyes are bright and there’s a healthy colour to his skin. ‘Enjoying your break?’

‘Definitely. I didn’t think recording five songs would be so painful, but they really want to make it perfect. I think it’ll turn out pretty good,’ he rambles, a familiar, relieving sound. Not wanting to stop the flow, Changmin presses a palm between Jongdae’s shoulder blades and starts gently navigating the kid around the room as he listens and scouts for Kyuhyun.

‘Did you come with anyone?’ The question breaks through Changmin’s thoughts and he looks down to see Jongdae watching him expectantly.

‘Yeah, with my best friend.’

‘Soojung’s friend?’

‘No, not that one.’ Changmin laughs. ‘Why don’t you just ask her instead of bugging me?’

‘This is more fun,’ reassures Jongdae. ‘How many best friends do you _have_?’

‘Four.’ He counts them off on his fingers. ‘Kyuhyun, Yunho, Song Qian, Minho.’

‘You know Yunho-hyung?’

Changmin raises his eyebrows. ‘I should be asking _you_ that. Do you talk to the company lawyer often?’

‘Bad sweater hyung is working as an intern under Yunho-hyung’s supervision,’ replies Jongdae. ‘It’s how we met a year ago.’

‘Yeah?’ There’s a small spike of jealousy at the back of Changmin’s throat and he opens his mouth, knowing this isn’t the best time to bring it up but – ‘At the end of the mini-album promotions, I want to go through with the last stunt.’ Once the words register, Jongdae pulls away from Changmin’s touch entirely, looking at him with something not quite disagreement. It’s still enough to make Changmin feel a little bad, but he doesn’t back down. ‘Jongdae.’

‘We’ll talk about it after the promotions then,’ says Jongdae, tone cool. ‘Anyway, hyung, I’m going to find a friend. See you later.’

He slips away without waiting for a reply, and Changmin thinks of following him when he hears his name called out again. It’s Kyuhyun, holding two glasses of booze, thank god.

‘You’re late,’ accuses Kyuhyun with a grin, and Changmin empties half the glass before he replies with a grin and a shrug, deciding to forget about Jongdae for a little while.

-

It might be close to an hour later and Changmin is pleasantly buzzed enough to give a shit about what people are saying to him. He smiles, makes all the appropriate noises, preens under the compliments and offers the same. Please – he keeps tracks of all these names; he knows exactly what he’s doing.

At least he thinks he does, but he really can’t explain why he’s leaning over Jongdae’s shoulder, looking at some other kid – nice face, just as short – with a smile, ‘can I borrow him for a second?’

Jongdae is startled and so is the other one he’s with, but the kid nods, ‘yes, of course.’

‘Hyung?’ asks Jongdae, following Changmin as they exit the main ballroom, leaving the din of conversation behind.

‘Just wanted to give you something,’ mentions Changmin, navigating the hotel’s hallways, checking both ways. There’s a buzz in his head, drowning out the vaguely sober voice telling him he’s taking a risk, as he finds a corner far enough from the ballroom that no one seems to be coming around. ‘Come here.’

‘You’re not that good with alcohol, are you,’ says Jongdae, letting Changmin take his shoulders into his hands and press him against the wall. Something like interest blooms in Jongdae’s expression, quirking the corner of his mouth. ‘What’s this, hyung?’

‘Stay still,’ says Changmin, fingers trailing along Jongdae’s throat to the collar of his shirt. Maybe the ribbon bowtie _was_ a good idea since it made popping the first two buttons easier. ‘Who was that you were with?’

‘You’re going to have to be more specific.’

‘The pretty one,’ says Changmin, scissoring Jongdae’s chin between index and thumb and making him look up. ‘You know who I’m talking about.’

‘I don’t know, hyung, I hang around so many people,’ drawls Jongdae, goading him. Fucking brat.

Changmin lets go of Jongdae’s face and undoes a third button of his shirt, taking in the lines of his collarbone. He hears a little hitch of Jongdae’s breath when the fabric is pushed to the side entirely to reveal the curve of his shoulder. ‘Remember this.’ Then Changmin’s leaning down, teeth sinking into the skin, firm and a little mean.

Jongdae’s hands fly out, fisting the lapels of Changmin’s suit jacket as he arches into the bite, a soft exhale of ‘ _hyung_ ,’ as Changmin sucks on the skin, letting a mark bloom underneath his mouth. The moment he feels it’s done and pulls away, Jongdae is tugging him forward again, ‘more.’

‘You’re going to go back into the ballroom,’ says Changmin, easing Jongdae’s fingers off his lapels, ‘and you’re going to talk to all those people.’ He quickly buttons up the shirt, straightening the collar and fixing the ribbon bowtie as much as something as ridiculous as that could be fixed. ‘And you’re going to do it all with that bruise on you.’

Once he’s done, Jongdae still doesn’t move, looking up at him through the fringe of his lashes, a self-satisfied curl to his mouth.

‘What?’ asks Changmin, suddenly feeling horribly exposed.

‘It’s okay, hyung,’ he says, pushing off the wall. ‘I’m _all_ yours.’

With that, Changmin watches Jongdae walk away, his small hand coming up to press against his shoulder until he lets out a small hiss. In another three steps, he rounds the corner and Changmin is left standing there, feeling a little tipsy and oh-so-fucked.

-

Promotions start without Changmin for now. The company makes the schedule and tosses Chen around from varieties to interviews to impromptu performances at events back to varieties again. The mini-album comes out and Changmin laughs when he sees Krystal as one of the featured artists on one song. Guess that meeting went better than expected.

Promotions last five weeks – from September to mid-October. He’s more of an idle observer throughout, letting the company take charge. The director knows his plans for November and gave him approval.

It’s partially out of Yunho’s casual scolding that Changmin decides to aggressively shove himself into Jongdae’s schedule after a late night recording and treat the kid to dinner. _I’ll pick you up when you’re_ _done, I’ll let jjong know_

Jongdae’s reply is delayed, but that’s cause he’s probably getting his hair and clothes prepped. Finally, Changmin gets an _okay see you!!_

There are so many reasons why Changmin is pretty sure this is a bad idea, but Song Qian is patient with him when she tells him she has a perfectly functional relationship with Soojung and they’re _also_ eight years apart. ‘After all, anything is possible with a positive attitude, Changminnie,’ she says, throwing a thumbs-up before hiding her face in her hands as she laughs at him.

A few hours later, it’s already night, streetlights bright, illuminating the roads and the trickles of people still walking around when it’s so late on a weekday. The underground parking lot has two floors, and Changmin goes to the emptier second one; it’ll be easier to find his car later.

He’s clearly on time when he wanders through the building, ready to call Jongdae until he runs into the other coming out of the bathroom, the edges of his hair a little damp. There’s some makeup he forgot to wash off along his jawline, but Changmin won’t tease for now. Jonghyun also steps out into the hallway in his jacket, bag packed up and ready to go.

‘I’ll see you,’ says Jonghyun. ‘Jongdae-ah, feel free to call if you need something, okay?’

‘Thank you, hyung,’ says Jongdae, waving. ‘Tomorrow at eight, right?’

‘Yep – don’t go to bed too late.’ Jonghyun levels a look at Changmin. ‘Don’t get him in trouble.’

‘That’s my job,’ says Changmin, slinging an arm around Jongdae’s shoulders. ‘But I won’t. G’night.’

Jonghyun waves and disappears as he turns the corner at the end of the hallway. Jongdae fidgets under Changmin’s arm, so he retracts it and watches as the kid darts forward and into the dressing room. ‘Sorry, hyung, let me just get my stuff.’

‘No problem. I was thinking we could walk to the place from here, won’t have to look for parking that way.’

‘Sounds good. Could – ’ There’s a pause before Jongdae re-emerges wearing a jacket over his regular clothes of a shirt and jeans, a backpack slung around his shoulder and a snapback on his head. ‘Could I leave this in your car then? Don’t want to carry it around.’

‘Only if you take off the fucking hat,’ replies Changmin but starts walking anyway. He pauses occasionally as Jongdae thanks and bows to the staff he sees on his way out. Once they’re in the parking garage, the air is cool, prickles over his skin. Jongdae is curiously quiet, but Changmin chalks it up to fatigue – he’s had a long day today.

‘How are you?’ he asks, pulling out his car keys from his jacket pocket.

‘Good – not, not in the trunk,’ replies Jongdae. ‘Can I just leave my stuff in the backseat?’

‘Trunk’s more secure,’ says Changmin but shrugs in acquiesce, unlocking the doors. Jongdae pulls on the handle and throws in his backpack into the foot space of the far seat, even pulls off his snapback and tosses it inside, before pausing. ‘Something wrong?’

‘Hyung,’ says Jongdae, finally straightening and looking up at Changmin between the car and the door. There’s expectation on his face, like he’s waiting for something, and Changmin feels himself floundering for a moment, wondering if he’s forgotten something. It’s not like he’s Jongdae’s manager, he can’t imagine where he might’ve fucked up – ‘ _hyung_.’

‘What?’

‘Can you just,’ Jongdae makes a frustrated noise, reaching out and snagging Changmin’s wrist, pulling him forward. ‘I don’t give a shit about my backpack.’

There’s definitely something Changmin’s missing here. Half of it pieces together when Jongdae rises up on his toes, trying his best. With that sort of effort, Changmin has to give something back, and he cups Jongdae’s neck and meets him halfway, kissing him slowly.

For a moment, Changmin pulls away, sees the thick arch of Jongdae’s lashes complement that half-lidded look of arousal. ‘More?’

‘Why are you _talking_?’ snaps Jongdae, swinging both arms around Changmin’s neck, dragging him down just a little more so they can kiss again. Jongdae’s mouth is warm and chapped, eager to open up when Changmin slides his tongue along the seam.

He sucks on Jongdae’s bottom lip, wanting to see it red and swollen later, and Jongdae makes the smallest noise, an exhale, ‘haaa…’ and it rushes straight to his cock. He has hands on Jongdae’s hips now, pulling him forward. Jongdae stumbles along, refusing to break the kiss longer than necessary. Just for the flash of where they’re apart, Changmin sees Jongdae – his eyes bright, pink on the apple of his cheeks, the flush of his mouth – and then he’s slamming Jongdae against his car, mouth back on him.

Jongdae leans back against the car and pushes his hips forward, enough space for Changmin to catch the kid’s thighs from underneath and wrap his legs around his waist. They’re grinding now, in some public parking garage, but it’s also close to midnight and no one is around, and Jongdae is whining from the back of his throat, nails scratching over Changmin’s shoulders to get him close, closer.

‘Get this shit off me,’ gasps Jongdae as his hips start rolling against Changmin’s stomach, catching friction over the curve of his half-hard cock underneath his jeans. Changmin needs a moment to understand as Jongdae unhooks his arms and tries to push his jacket off.

With one movement, Changmin is pushing off the car, holding Jongdae up with just his hands under the other’s thighs. Jongdae swears, trying to maintain balance, ‘how can you just pick me up – you’re so fucking old,’ before he’s busying himself with tossing his jacket down onto the asphalt. Next is his shirt, uncaring of how cool the air is down here.

‘So you _do_ work out,’ says Changmin, raking his eyes down Jongdae’s torso. He’s pale – as expected – with leanness to him, nothing explicitly carved out over his form. It suits him – muscle hidden just underneath, revealed only when the light hits him right. ‘What are you even planning to do?’

‘What did you have in mind?’ asks Jongdae, looping his arms around Changmin’s neck and pressing close. ‘We can start with laying me down in your car.’

Changmin follows through, making sure Jongdae doesn’t bump his head against the roof as he splays the kid over the dark leather. Quickly, he grabs the jacket and shirt still on the asphalt and throws it into the foot space before crawling inside and shutting the door behind him.

It’s a little cramped to be inside; even Jongdae has to twist one leg to rest in the foot space so he fits properly. Changmin has impossibly long limbs, but he manages with a leg jammed between the back of the seat and Jongdae’s thigh, his other foot against the floor, and both his forearms braced on either side of Jongdae’s grinning face.

‘Fucking finally.’ He combs his small fingers through Changmin’s hair, watching him attentively. ‘Want you to…’ He trails off, something like apprehension stealing over his face.

So Changmin leans down, kisses him slow and wet, until Jongdae is shivering, a whine for more crawling up his throat. ‘Do tell.’

Jongdae swallows, ‘I just want you to mark me again.’

The words shoot a bolt of white-hot arousal down Changmin’s spine. ‘I can’t. Your outfits are too revealing.’

‘Still, somewhere, anywhere.’ Jongdae arches his back, tries to present his naked torso. ‘I need it, hyung.’

Fuck. Changmin leans down again, licks a trail from jawline to collarbone, lightly scraping his teeth over the bob of Jongdae’s adam’s apple just to feel the whimper vibrate up his throat. His mouth ghosts downwards, making his back arch upwards as he tries to kiss his way down to Jongdae’s nipple. The moment he flicks his tongue over it, Jongdae moans, and Changmin can’t resist that. Does it again and again, wants to hear the little yips that come from Jongdae’s mouth as arousal pools into his belly.

‘Hyung,’ reminds Jongdae, a little more breathless. ‘C’mon.’

‘Sit up and take off your jeans,’ he says, pushing himself back, careful not to smack his head against the roof of the car. Jongdae stares up at him for a beat before he nods, scrambling backwards, leaning against the door, his fingers quick to undo the button and zip. He’s half-hard under the grey cotton of his briefs. ‘Take those off too.’

‘Fuck, hyung,’ laughs Jongdae breathlessly, kicking off his shoes so the jeans and underwear will slide off his ankles and pool to the floor. ‘Do you get off on this shit?’

‘What shit?’ asks Changmin, patiently waiting as Jongdae strips himself, taking in the sight of the lean thighs, the sharpness of his hips, the brush of hair from navel to the base of his pink cock. He looked so fucking small and breakable and sharp.

‘Get off on fucking cute, naked boys in your car while you’re still fully dressed,’ replies Jongdae, completely unfazed by his filthy mouth. Changmin sucks in a breath, didn’t even realize, but then doesn’t give a shit.

‘I’m not going to fuck you, Jongdae.’ He runs his hands down the flat plane of Jongdae’s stomach before thumbing the sharp jut of his hips. ‘Sit straight, I need space.’

‘You’re so pushy,’ laughs Jongdae, breathless, but does as told. His knee is drawn to his chest, pressed against the back of the seat, the other leg splayed out against the floor. Changmin leans down, feels his neck curve a little uncomfortably, but nothing he can’t handle. Then Jongdae’s fingers are carding through his hair again, soothing and repetitive, as Changmin opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into the inside of Jongdae’s thigh.

‘F- _uck_ ,’ says Jongdae, voice breaking, ‘oh fuck.’ One bruise isn’t going to be enough, Changmin wants to leave five, ten, twenty – littered all over Jongdae, something that makes his skin pull so the little twinge of pain reminds Jongdae of who did this to him.

He keeps going, mean and slow, sucking over a patch of skin until he hears a telltale hiss of pain from Jongdae’s mouth. Two, then a third, a little higher up, near the crease where thigh meets pelvis. He can see the now hard bob of Jongdae’s cock, how it’s arching upwards against his stomach. Someone likes this. ‘Your other thigh, move to the side and hold it open for me.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ agrees Jongdae in a flurry, ass almost falling off the seat as he shuffles over so his other leg can stretch out a little, reveal how it's pale and unmarked. ‘I want more. Hyung, give me more.’

Changmin replies with kisses and bites, has no problem nipping smaller pink marks around the blooming purple. His fingers dig into Jongdae’s hips, holds him fast, and thinks how he might bruise him there too. Mark him up.

‘More, don’t stop, more,’ exhales Jongdae, using his grip on Changmin’s hair to make him look up at his flushed face, the open mouth panting for air. ‘Hyung, my neck too. All over me.’

‘You know I can’t,’ he says softly, feels the disappointment as acutely as Jongdae does when his brows furrow and he tips his head back against the window.

‘Can you fuck me then?’ He’s not looking at Changmin, a flush to his cheeks, hands drawing back to clench awkwardly in the air before falling limp at his sides.

‘I’m not going to fuck you,’ repeats Changmin, patient and quiet. ‘But I can get you off.’

Jongdae glances at him. ‘You don’t need to, hyung. I got what I wanted.’ His muscles are all tensed, like he’s ready to run, and Changmin wants to press him down, wants to _hold_ him there.

‘I want to. Let me suck you off.’

‘Shit.’ Taking in a sharp breath, Jongdae nods, then shakes his head. ‘Don’t have a condom.’

‘Are you clean?’

‘I’m a virgin,’ replies Jongdae, and Changmin blinks in surprise, before it hits him how utterly, absolutely _young_ Jongdae is, even when he comes off so forward and confident and sleek. ‘So yeah, I’m probably the cleanest I’ll ever be.’

‘Then you can even come in my mouth,’ says Changmin before he’s spitting onto Jongdae’s pink cock, wrapping a palm around the length and sliding downwards in a slow stroke. Jongdae doesn’t have a reply for him, only twitches and shivers, fingers scratching against the leather seat below. ‘No – hands on me. Hold my hair if you want to.’

‘Hyung,’ gasps out Jongdae as Changmin takes half of his cock into his mouth, sucks a little. His fingers fly out, scraping against the jut of Changmin’s shoulders for a grip as Changmin begins to bob his head, make sure his spit is getting everything slicker. ‘Fuck, hyung.’

Humming, Changmin doesn’t let up. Even if he feels a little out of practice, the noises Jongdae is making – keening, desperate cries – is telling him he’s on the right track.

He pulls off entirely for a beat, using his hand to stroke him tight and fast, and Jongdae arches, wails a little, his nails digging painfully into Changmin’s skin over his shirt. A singer even in bed, he thinks, as he ducks his head down and laps at Jongdae’s sac, knowing how sensitive it is down there.

Jongdae does not disappoint – his thighs begin to tremble and his voice breaks over his name, stretches it a syllable too long. Immediately, Changmin sucks in one ball, still stroking in time, feeling how Jongdae’s hips are beginning to roll to his rhythm. When he comes up to mouth the crown of Jongdae;s cock, the taste of precome thickens on his tongue – the end already rushing up Jongdae’s spine.

‘Fuck my mouth,’ says Changmin. ‘Hold onto my hair and fuck my mouth.’

The offer is clearly too much because Jongdae makes another breathless noise, ‘fuck, oh god, okay.’

His fingers unhook from Changmin’s shoulder blades and slowly drag upwards to curl into his short hair, testing the grip. ‘Can you take it?’

‘Shut up, you brat,’ replies Changmin and swallows him down whole just to prove him wrong. The cockhead bumps against the back of his throat but he’s prepared, knows how to do this by heart. He hollows his cheeks, sucks hard until he hears Jongdae wail out another beautiful, broken noise, and his hips finally begin to move.

At first it’s a minute of slow, slow movement – Jongdae’s hips restrained in every way as he holds on but only push and pulls his cock at a steady pace. Changmin doesn’t choke, can’t, and only hums because he knows Jongdae can feel the vibrations travel along his length, right over his sac to his hole. Jongdae swears, ‘fuck, hyung.’

Idly, he wonders if this is what Jongdae likes – something rhythmic and drawn out, if he can actually come from Changmin’s tongue tickling at the cockridge, his mouth soft and warm as he sucks, drool dripping obscenely down his chin.

Looking up through his lashes, he sees Jongdae looking down right back at him, mouth panting and face flushed red. They watch each other for a beat and then Jongdae shoves his cock a little harder into Changmin’s mouth. He gags on it – surprised – but can’t help the moan that comes out of him too, liking the familiar soreness of his jaw, the ache of his throat when he gets properly face-fucked.

‘Changmin-hyung, you…’ Jongdae trails off, watching him, and though his expression is bleary with lust, there’s still something sharp in the glint of his eye, something that sees everything. ‘Sorry, I’ll do this right.’

‘Right’ is a jump from slow to hard in only a few thrusts once Jongdae gets the hang of what to do. Then he’s shoving his cock deep into Changmin’s mouth, feeling the hot flutter of his throat over the crown. Jongdae moans – low and desperate – and repeats the motion over and over, dragging Changmin’s mouth all the way from tip to base and letting Changmin try to suck the orgasm out of him.

He’s not going to last long – being a kid and all – so Changmin enjoys this for as long as he can, breathing in and out of his nose, moving to the rhythm of the thrusts, letting his spit slide down his chin, feeling the weight and heat and taste of salty-spicy precome on his tongue.

It has his mouth stretched, jaw aching, completely mindless in the best way, letting him get caught up as Jongdae uses his mouth with each fuck down his throat. Jongdae is getting noisier, if it was even possible, his head thrown back, the veins on his neck showing, as he’s overwhelmed by how good it feels.

‘Ch- _ang_ -min,’ stutters Jongdae, so utterly gone, and it’s the only warning Changmin gets before the grip on his skull goes punishingly tight and Jongdae’s stuffing his cock down Changmin’s throat for long, long seconds, until Changmin can’t even fucking _breathe_.

The sweetest wail slides out from between Jongdae’s lips as his dick twitches and he’s coming, warm pulses of his load that Changmin almost can’t even taste because he’s too busy choking on Jongdae’s cock. It’s perfect.

Slowly, Jongdae softens up and Changmin can breathe again, licking up the last drops of come from the flaccid cock that finally slips out from between his bruised, swollen lips. ‘I don’t think… I can move…’ admits Jongdae, looking completely wrung out, his skin covered in a diamond sheen of sweat, hair stuck to his forehead, a blush painted all over his skin.

‘You’re so loud,’ says Changmin, wincing at how rough his voice sounds now. He brings up his hand and presses his fingers into the bruises on the inside of Jongdae’s thigh. Immediately – though he’s completely exhausted – Jongdae manages to arch, ‘ _ah_ – hyung, fuck,’ until the touch pulls away.

‘We need to dress you back up.’

‘Can’t I just sleep here and you can drive me home?’ whines Jongdae.

‘And then ask you to walk into your dorms naked?’

‘Not the dorms, take me to your place.’

Changmin pauses in gathering up Jongdae’s clothes, looking over at the kid who is leaning against the fogged up window, watching him with those eyes that see too much all at once. ‘Jongdae…’

‘Yeah, I know. Unprofessional,’ says Jongdae, jerking out an arm to grab at the clothes the other is holding. ‘Can we at least get take-out before you drop me off? I’m hungry.’

‘Yeah,’ he replies, wondering what it is that he’s missing.

-

Promotions go without much of a hitch. At least on the professional end – Jongdae is a rookie, but a self-conscious one, aware of the cameras constantly directed at him, all the ways his actions will be picked apart and analyzed on the web. He’s good at this – keeping up the appearance of that combination of narcissism and self-deprecation that drags people into loving him. His predecessor could do that too.

Of course, there needs to be breaks in character – when Chen laughs too loud or smiles too big or stumbles over a sentence. He’s still a rookie, still a kid, not always so self-contained and effortless, but it _works_ for him. A fanbase needs someone that is not only admirable but someone to prod and tease. He has a cute face, a personality wavering between rockstar uncouthness and polite choirboy, and a voice that is a diamond in the rough. It’s no surprise Chen becomes popular and the promotions are successful.

Jongdae, however, is something a little stranger, newer, even though they’ve known each other since April, Changmin can’t _quite_ pin him down. Not the way he can read Chen – who is following a script anyway, either of the company or his own device.

The texts have tapered off into radio silence, and Jongdae doesn’t care much for contacting Changmin anymore. He is polite, greets him, talks to him like nothing is wrong and while the instances relieve Changmin – he can still feel the warmth of Jongdae’s hand, hear the cadence of his voice – they’re lost the moment the two of them separate.

So, outside of business, Jongdae didn’t seem to have a thought for him anymore. It’s because of that incident in the car that Changmin replays in his head over and over – he should’ve taken Jongdae home, no, he should’ve _not_ kissed Jongdae in the first place, not _let_ Jongdae happen to him and take whatever it is he wanted from Changmin.

He remembers that by the time Jongdae was fully dressed, Changmin had managed to will his cock down till he was only half-hard. Inevitably, Jongdae notices, as he does everything else. ‘Do you…’ He reaches out, voice trailing off.

‘I’ll be fine,’ assures Changmin, clambering off the seat and looping around to the driver’s side. The chill of the parking garage makes him realize how much his car smells of sweat and sex – he’ll have to clean it out later. Once he has the car running, the rearview mirror shows Jongdae with his head tipped against the window, eyes closed, probably dozing. It’s cute – how weak he gets from only one orgasm, and it makes Changmin wonder about future possibilities, but he has to stop that train of thought if he wanted to drive.

Jongdae wakes long enough to order and hold the boxes of takeout in his lap as Changmin rides up to the dorms. ‘Thanks, hyung,’ is the last thing he hears before Jongdae has taken all his stuff and half the food, walking with a stumble to the doors.

They should’ve talked, maybe Jongdae was faking the nap, maybe the takeout was some other excuse, maybe if he had driven slower, waited longer. Endless hypotheses and it doesn’t change the result that Changmin feels rendered helpless by a kid eight years younger than him over the fact that he’s not getting some fucking text messages.

 _what do you do_ , he texts Song Qian, _when soojung ignores you?_

 _she doesn’t_ , replies Song Qian, _because we actually talk it out with each other_

Changmin’s dropped the ball concerning communication since the day he learned to speak, but she’s probably right. She usually is.

-

Promotions end and Changmin arranges them to meet in his coffee shop again, pulling up the roster of idols and celebrities on his tablet and setting it on the table for when Jongdae arrives.

Jongdae’s only reply was an _okay see you hyung_ , which is better than nothing, and he arrives ever on time, wearing a nice jacket over a soft grey sweater, beanie on his head. Just an average kid without horrifying sweaters or deadly smears of eyeliner. The normalcy of the sight sends a shock through Changmin’s system – makes him realize he’s getting better at learning _Jongdae_ , separating past from present.

As usual, Jongdae gets a coffee and overloads it on cream and sugar, before falling into the chair across from Changmin with an easy grin. ‘So? What’s up?’

Changmin stares at him for a moment, any thought of talking about _them_ dying in his mouth, before clearing his throat: ‘I want you to have a dating scandal in November.’

Of course, Jongdae’s expression slides a little, disliking the idea of these publicity stunts, but Changmin won’t press him. He made that mistake last time and paid for it.

‘The dating scandal will be lowkey – just a few rumours with someone famous, and it should garner you some good last-minute attention before the end of the year awards. It’s up to you if you want to do it or stay low until then.’

‘After this, then what?’ asks Jongdae.

‘That’s it. I’ve done my job,’ says Changmin. ‘I’ve only been hired to work with you _until_ the end of the year awards. My contract will be up and I’ll find another client. This is probably the last event of this sort that you’ll do.’

‘Okay.’ Jongdae chews on his bottom lip for a second before nodding. ‘Yeah. Okay. This has worked so far, I’ll do the last thing.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘I am, hyung. What do I have to do?’

Changmin unlocks the screen of his tablet and shows off the list that he’s picked out. Some boys, some girls, some older, but none younger. That would be too scandalous and might go badly. They’re all more famous than Chen of course, and all of them involved in the entertainment industry – whether as actors, or MCs, or well-known corporate employees, or artists that can range from choreography to dancing and singing. It’s a solid list, Changmin is proud of his research abilities.

‘Oh,’ exhales Jongdae as he scrolls, but he doesn’t stop, so Changmin can’t see who it was that caught his eye. ‘Do I… do I get a choice?’

‘Sure,’ says Changmin. ‘I’ll let you know the pros and cons of whoever and then we can decide.’

Jongdae nods, and gets to the end of the list before scrolling back up. He runs through it again – a little bit more slowly, reading off the tidbits of information that Changmin has provided under the names and passport-sized pictures of them all. He’s really, really proud of this list.

They’re not in a hurry, so Changmin leans back and sips his drink, looking at the curve of Jongdae’s cheek and the way his lashes flutter when he blinks. The beanie is perched on his head, makes him look boyish and cute. For one moment, affection _floods_ Changmin’s frame, utterly relaxing him as he keeps watching.

Finally, Jongdae looks up, seeming hesitant, ‘is it possible with, ah, this person?’ He has a name highlighted on the screen and Changmin leans over to see.

‘Famous, talented, and completely, _utterly_ out of your league,’ says Changmin with a satisfied nod. ‘I’ll call her manager.’

-

Zhang Liyin rose with the likes of Kyuhyun in a wave of ballad artists a few years ago, several of them often performing duets with another and creating their own sort of fanbase who was invested in slow, mournful crooning. Changmin knows Kyuhyun is stumbling his way through Mandarin, probably influenced by his co-stars and competitors, trying to follow Liyin who is in charge of bilingual singing between them all.

In all honesty, Changmin’s glad it was someone like Liyin because Kyuhyun is friends with her manager, so it might be easy to convince him that it is totally okay for a few media journalists to see them walking around together in public.

Of course, Zhou Mi looks less than impressed with the idea. ‘Liyin is _busy_.’

‘Just for a little while – a week, that’s it,’ says Changmin, pouring more wine into Zhou Mi’s glass. Kyuhyun’s already a bit plastered so he doesn’t get a refill. ‘It’ll be cute. Liyin and her scandalous, tiny boyfriend.’

‘You mean _your_ tiny boyfriend,’ adds Kyuhyun helpfully.

‘Kyuhyun, I’m his publicist.’

Zhou Mi’s expression grows dour. ‘I’m not letting you use my Liyin for your lovelife.’

Changmin rubs his face with his hand, sighing. ‘Can you at least ask her?’

After three more glasses, Zhou Mi agrees to ask.

-

‘Hello, Jongdae-sshi,’ says Liyin, wearing jeans and a white blouse that offsets her dark hair that she keeps loose around her shoulders. She’s stunning, soft eyes and a soft voice, as she holds a purse in one hand, standing beside Zhou Mi in the lobby of the company building.

Changmin had decided to escort Jongdae to the building, telling Jonghyun to not worry about it, and he’s sort of glad because it’s captivating to watch Jongdae utterly fall apart.

‘Hi – hello, Liyin-noo – ah, Liyin-sshi,’ he manages, eyes wide and smiling in disbelief. He bows in a jerk and straightens. ‘It’s – it’s really wonderful to meet you. I’m a fan.’

‘Oh.’ She says as if it’s genuinely surprising and smiles in appreciation. ‘Thank you. I’ve seen you on TV sometimes, you’re very good as well.’

Jongdae laughs – pitched and nervous, watching her with wonderment on his face. He’s utterly struck by her, unable to acknowledge anything past her face, the way she looks and smiles at him, humouring him even when she can probably see how much he’s completely caught up in her.

It’s a side completely different from anything Changmin has seen. There is Chen, who looks at the camera like he knows he’s tempting jailbait, and there is Jongdae, who laughs and never stops talking and sees too much all at once, but now there is also this Jongdae – Liyin’s Jongdae – that is making a complete fool of himself.

It seems to charm her either way. Liyin’s laughing behind her hand as she watches him, letting him ramble on about her last album, how much he liked it, how much he wished he could understand Mandarin to better appreciate the other singles she has. She doesn’t interrupt him until he’s run out of breath, and then asks him, ‘do you want to leave these two and have lunch?’

Jongdae’s brain must once again crash, because he’s staring at her for a beat too long in disbelief before nodding. ‘Of course. Where to?’

Zhou Mi is busy tapping at his phone, ignoring the completely disastrous first impression Jongdae is making, and looks up at the sound of Liyin’s voice. ‘There’s that nice place near your apartment.’

‘You’re right. Can I drive?’

He nods, tossing her the keys, and Liyin turns to Jongdae. ‘Do you know how to drive?’

‘Not at all,’ admits Jongdae and she laughs.

‘You have time to learn. See you later, Changmin-sshi. I’ll bring him back safe.’

‘Thanks,’ says Changmin, watching Jongdae stumble after her, mouth shooting off more words, an endless stream, more than half of it probably compliments of some sort. Either way, Liyin seems to like him enough to take him out of her own accord, no matter Zhou Mi’s misgivings. This was good. This was going fine.

‘You’re lucky she finds him cute,’ grouses Zhou Mi. ‘This is completely cutting into our schedules.’

‘I owe you one,’ promises Changmin. ‘I’ll treat you to lunch too?’ He draws out his own car keys and Zhou Mi’s expression lights up. He’ll take it as a yes.

-

They meet again a few days later. Jongdae is basically bouncing on the balls of his feet, dressed carefully in dark jeans and a shirt with a blazer thrown over top. His hair is even brushed and Changmin saw him fiddling with chapstick earlier.

‘Do you… have a crush on her?’ asks Changmin slowly as they stand waiting in the lobby of Liyin’s company, waiting for her to be done with her recording. They’ll go on a nice dinner now. Liyin’s even taken a selca or two with him and posted it on her weibo. Someone is bound to notice them.

Jongdae looks up at him, eyebrows raised. ‘A crush on Liyin-noona?’

‘Yeah. You’re… different around her.’

Changmin doesn’t expect Jongdae to laugh unabashedly loud and free. ‘Yeah, I guess I do. I remember listening to a lot of ballads and she has the best voice out of all of them. Now that I’ve met her… she’s wonderful.’

‘Ah.’ He doesn’t exactly know what to do with this information, just lets it stew in his head as he waits beside Jongdae. Jongdae hasn’t touched him today – kept a fair distance, apparently to make sure he’s perfectly prepared and available for Liyin. It’s… It’s…

‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Changmin-hyung,’ says Jongdae, watching him with an amused expression.

‘That’s not,’ starts Changmin but he doesn’t know what he’s going to say.

Jongdae shakes his head, seeing Liyin and Zhou Mi and some staff coming down the hallway now into the lobby. ‘It’s not like you’re dating me, hyung. I can like whoever I want.’

The words are like a punch in the gut, and Changmin is surprised by how much his chest twists in on itself as he watches Jongdae stride forward, greeting Liyin with that usual boyish enthusiasm and her answering smile.

It’s true, of course. He doesn’t have a right over Jongdae, hasn’t made a claim over him, hasn’t _asked_ anything from him. _I’m his publicist._ The fact bites him this time.

-

The rumours crop up with surprising speed after the dinner incident. There are blurry pictures and fan accounts gathered, some articles drafted up – short and sweet: _Is lovely ballad singer Zhang Liyin dating_ _the new rookie Chen?_

Dating scandals are like a high – keeps a fan base active and attentive, making everyone look where they’re looking. He’s glad it’s a success but he wonders if it’s backfired on him. Jongdae doesn’t bother contacting him first anymore, keeps his distance both physical and with words, and becomes a puppy when Liyin looks in his direction. He adores her – is so overwhelmed and impressed by her talent and her poise – and Changmin wonders if this is another way his past failures have made him unable to measure up.

Except he’s a fully-grown adult and he has a job and an apartment and a car. There’s no way someone this young and inexperienced should render Changmin this off-balance –

‘So you’ve come to like him,’ says Yunho. ‘Why is that bad?’

‘He’s young,’ is Changmin’s first reply. Then: ‘I’m his publicist.’

‘You’re not going to be his publicist after December. Then what’s your excuse?’

‘He’s still young.’

‘You’re just scared of him,’ laughs Yunho, cutting right into Changmin. ‘It’s been so long since you’ve liked someone – especially someone that reminds you of what happened years ago – and now you’re just piling on excuses until you can hide.’

‘Tell me about _your_ lovelife,’ interrupts Changmin sharply, because it’s true.

When he looks up from his phone screen, Yunho is standing there smiling warmly at him. ‘You still act so young, Changminnie. Make a move before your dating scandal becomes real.’

-

The text reads _if you’re free tomorrow, want to go get dinner?_ when Changmin sends it, before dropping his phone on the couch and pacing his apartment in nervousness. It’s only a minute later that he hears the vibrating buzz of a reply.

_sure! what time will you pick me up?_

Breathing a sigh of relief, Changmin sends him a reply and hopes for the best.

-

‘Hey, hyung, how’s it going?’ asks Jongdae as he drops into the passenger seat, buckling himself up.

‘Okay,’ says Changmin with a shrug as he pulls out the garage, navigating the streets with a familiar ease. ‘How are you?’

‘I’ve been talking to Liyin-noona lately,’ he starts and the stream of words comes out, unbidden, rushing over Changmin’s bones and weighing him down with how happy Jongdae sounds, pleased and shy and excited when he thinks of her. It’s cute – like puppy-love, something culled out of the ground still fresh and budding and sweet-smelling. It’s cute but all Changmin can do is stare straight ahead and try to think of nothing.

They pull into the parking garage of an upscale apartment complex and Jongdae sighs out, impressed by the size and height and the neighborhood they’re in. ‘Where are we?’

‘You once said,’ starts Changmin, falters, but tries again. ‘I’m taking you back to my place. I’m a really good cook.’

Jongdae looks at him, half-smile on his mouth. ‘I get homemade food? I haven’t had that in _forever_.’

He knows Jongdae only gets to visit his family a few times a year before returning right back to training and promotions, so Changmin only grins at him. ‘I bet I can beat your mother’s cooking.’

‘You wish,’ shoots back Jongdae, scrambling out of the car in excitement.

They take the elevator up, Jongdae now talking on the topic of food, one that Changmin can easily reciprocate because if there’s one thing he’s passionate about – it’s eating. Cooking good food was just a necessity he decided to learn but now, years later, Changmin can’t deny he takes pride in it.

‘Hey, thanks for this, hyung,’ says Jongdae as Changmin unlocks his front door. ‘Do I get to cook too?’

‘ _Can_ you?’ snorts Changmin, the tension draining out of his shoulders because this – this is _familiar_. Jongdae is not talking about Liyin, he’s onto something else, and his voice fills up the air around Changmin, surrounds him, gathers up Changmin’s introvert bones and makes him smile and laugh and warm up with affection.

He’s cleaned his place up, made sure it was presentable, and Jongdae wanders around it, looking at everything – the décor, the pictures, the colours. It’s definitely more spacious than the dorms Jongdae must be used to, with more windows that let the setting sun’s light seep inside and cover the walls and carpet and furniture in golds and reds.

‘Your place is gorgeous,’ says Jongdae before he finally wanders into the kitchen, rocking on the balls of his feet. ‘Are you sure you don’t want help?’

‘I already prepped some stuff yesterday, just need to cook it,’ answers Changmin as he washes his hands then goes rifling through his fridge. ‘You can explore or something.’

‘No, I’ll just stick around here.’ With that, Jongdae is looking around Changmin’s admittedly well-stocked and clean kitchen, making fun of Changmin for his too-fancy coffee maker. ‘You’re so pretentious, hyung.’

‘Nothing wrong with quality,’ defends Changmin as he fries up the meat for their bibimbap. Jongdae is restless but warm – Changmin feels relieved when his small hands press against Changmin’s waist, his head ducking under Changmin’s elbow to watch him work, before skittering off again.

He works with Jongdae’s voice as his soundtrack, echoing out from the hallway or the living room or in the kitchen, right beside Changmin. It’s nice, surprising, how Changmin feels utterly comfortable with Jongdae’s presence in his own space.

He finishes the vegetables and meat over the pan, finds his gochujang paste, and is pleased to note that the rice cooker has been keeping the rice warm as he calls for Jongdae. ‘Serve yourself while I cook the eggs.’

The bibimbap is a success – two bowls piled full as they sit at the table across from each other, Jongdae eating quietly and intensely. ‘This is really, really fucking good, hyung.’

‘Told you.’

‘Take the compliment properly.’

‘Thank you, Jongdae-ah.’

Jongdae rolls his eyes, and Changmin can’t resist watching him, feeling the smile ghost over his own mouth but he has no willingness to hide it. Not in his own apartment. Halfway, Jongdae looks up and catches the expression, before looking back down at his bowl again, ears pink. It has Changmin laughing behind his palm because Jongdae is still a kid – fluttering and floundering with feelings.

‘What?’ asks Jongdae, still refusing to look up.

‘You got shy. It’s cute.’

‘Hyung!’ His ears are definitely flushed red. Changmin takes it as a good sign.

‘Thank you for being here,’ he says.

Jongdae pauses, chopsticks hanging in the air above his bowl, caught up in a thought, before he nods. ‘Thank you for inviting me, hyung.’ It only takes another pause before Jongdae launches himself into another subject entirely – this time the living conditions of his dorms versus how comfortable Changmin’s couch was when he sat on it earlier, and the emotional vulnerability is swept to the corner of the room.

Letting it happen, Changmin listens and hums and replies with teases so Jongdae talks some more, as he eats his own food. They’re having water for now, but he wonders if Jongdae could be convinced to have a beer or a shot of soju. There’s wine that Kyuhyun left here somewhere – but wine doesn’t go well with bibimbap. _Stop_ , he thinks to himself, _you’re not getting him intoxicated to make talking to him easier for_ _yourself_.

Instead, they eat and finish and Jongdae offers to at least wash dishes while Changmin packs up the leftovers in containers. He’ll give it to Jongdae when he drops him off back at the dorms.

‘I meant it,’ starts Changmin as he shoves the containers into his fridge. ‘When I said thank you for being here. You know why I brought you here.’

‘Yeah,’ says Jongdae, voice low as he shuts the water off, drying his hands on the hand towel hanging off the oven handle. ‘Because I asked you that one time.’

‘Are you uncomfortable?’ Changmin closes the fridge door and leans his hip against it as he watches Jongdae turn around and lean back against the kitchen counter. ‘I’ll take you home right now if you want.’

Jongdae shakes his head. ‘I’m really comfortable here. I like it here.’ His expression crumples up for a moment before he’s sucking in a breath and looking calm and passive again, meeting Changmin’s eyes. ‘I think I probably like it too much here.’

‘You can stay.’ The offer is sudden but sincere and it has Jongdae’s eyes go wide in surprise. Changmin tries to follow-up, hates that he always stumbles with words at the most important of times. ‘I know – you have every right to like Liyin, and take her out and do whatever you do with her. It’s none of my business.’

‘But…?’ prompts Jongdae.

‘But I want you first,’ says Changmin with a shrug. ‘I should’ve told you, asked you, earlier.’

The air goes still, and Changmin takes the opportunity to completely _look_ at Jongdae. The dark, messy hair, the slant to his eyes, the severe cut of his cheekbone. Still so short, still so frail around his wrists and along the slope of his neck. So utterly _different_ – he can’t believe he had mixed Jongdae up with someone who only existed in Changmin’s past.

Finally, Jongdae exhales a, ‘fuck, hyung,’ closing his eyes and tipping his head back, seemingly suddenly tired. Everything about him goes quiet and still, more apparent because he is never like this, and Changmin wonders if he should simply call Jongdae a taxi and put it on his credit card.

Before he can make the offer, Jongdae’s moving to the side, lifting himself up on the flat surface of the counter beside the sink. His legs swing in the air as he looks at Changmin, a curl to his mouth. ‘Show me.’

Changmin blinks. ‘What?’

Jongdae’s small hand flutters to the collar of his shirt and draws it to the side. ‘Show me you still want me here. Or,’ this time his hands are on his thighs, spreading them open, fingers ghosting along the inseam of his jeans. ‘here.’

A frisson of heat shoots right into Changmin’s stomach. ‘Jongdae.’

He just cocks his head, hands on the counter now, leaning back. ‘Or you don’t want to?’ It’s the look in his eyes – like he _knows_.

Changmin crosses the space between them in three steps, one hand curling around Jongdae’s neck, the other tugging the shirt collar down so he can sink his teeth under the kid’s collarbone. Immediately, Jongdae’s back arches, a breathy, ‘hyung’ escaping his lips.

‘You’re a fucking brat,’ says Changmin, pulling away and immediately trying to tug off the damn shirt. It helps that Jongdae lifts his arms, clearly just as eager, and loops his arms around Changmin’s shoulders, drawing him close.

‘Why else do you like me?’

Nosing along Jongdae’s neck, Changmin laughs, half-disbelieving, half-relieved, as he hooks Jongdae’s thighs around his waist. ‘Hold on.’

‘Trust me, hyung, I’m not going anywhere.’

Still doesn’t stop the surprised noise that escapes Jongdae when Changmin lifts him with apparent ease. His fingers dig into Changmin’s shoulder blades as Changmin moves out of the kitchen and drops Jongdae on the couch. ‘Since you liked it so much.’

‘Why are you so mean, hyung?’ whines Jongdae, sprawled along the cushions, hands reaching out to touch. ‘Fucking come closer, you know how much I’ve thought about this.’

‘Do tell,’ drawls Changmin, caging him in with a forearm pressed on either side of Jongdae’s head, feeling those hands skitter downwards and try to tug the shirt up his torso. This close, he dips down, kisses Jongdae’s mouth slow, giving him time, and Jongdae hums from the back of his throat as he opens up.

It’s easy and warm, more languid than he would have expected, especially if this has been coming for weeks upon weeks now. Jongdae knows how to kiss at least, even if everything else might be stumbling virgin, and the reminder of his inexperience has Changmin slowly pulling away, watching him.

‘Hyung?’ asks Jongdae, looking up at him with a flush on his cheeks, eyes half-lidded and lashes thick and dark. Honestly, he looked way too much like jailbait.

‘You should tell me to stop,’ says Changmin. ‘If you don’t want to do this.’

Of course, Jongdae has to scoff. ‘I’ve asked you _twice_ to fuck me. Did you not get the message?’

‘You know asking and doing are two different things, Jongdae.’

The harshness of his tone must echo through because Jongdae looks chastened and nods. ‘I know.’

‘Hey.’ Changmin presses soft kisses along the other’s jawline. ‘What do you want?’

‘At least take your shirt off,’ replies Jongdae eventually, fingers still twisted in the hem of it. That, Changmin can do as he kneels upwards, drawing the fabric off himself and feel it muss his hair. Below, Jongdae sighs. ‘What kind of publicist needs abs?’

‘It’s okay, Jongdae-ah, one day you’ll get your own,’ teases Changmin, bracing himself back over Jongdae’s head, leaving a long line of kisses down his neck. Jongdae arches, already letting out a series of sweet half-gasps as Changmin scrapes his teeth all the way down to his nipple. He takes it between his lips, lets it pebble under his tongue, before leaving a trail of pink marks to the other one.

The attention has Jongdae already squirming a little, his fingers caught in Changmin’s shoulder blades as he tries to get him closer, get more. It’s the eagerness that makes Changmin toss caution to the wind now – sinks his teeth along Jongdae’s collarbone and leaves bruises behind, just to hear Jongdae’s voice break over his name.

‘Want – fuck, want,’ stutters Jongdae as Changmin kisses his way down the other’s stomach. He doesn’t finish his sentence when Changmin starts teething at the line of hair that leads from navel to disappear under the waistband of his jeans.

Taking pity, Changmin pushes himself off, looking down at him. ‘What do you want?’

A sheen of pink is smeared from Jongdae’s high cheekbones to the curve of his ears, a necklace of hickeys below his collarbones, a dusting of sweat over his skin as he tries to breathe. All from just Changmin’s mouth. Heat coils in his belly at the thought.

‘Let me fuck with you too,’ says Jongdae with a grin. ‘Unfair to spoil me with all the attention.’

‘Is _that_ what you think this is?’ says Changmin, getting up from the couch. ‘So generous. Really, I’m just being greedy.’ With that he leans down and picks up Jongdae, one arm under his knees, the other braced along his back. He goes easily, short and small, and doesn’t protest as Changmin carries him down the hall.

‘Greedy?’ laughs Jongdae, forehead tucked next to Changmin’s neck as fingers trace idle patterns over his skin. ‘How long have _you_ thought about this?’

‘Do you really want to know?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, moving to curl one arm around Changmin’s shoulder as his mouth sucks at a patch of skin just under his jaw. He’s squirming in Changmin’s hold now, kissing and biting his way down the column of Changmin’s neck, encouraged by the noises that vibrate through Changmin as the heat shoots into his cock.

Finally, Changmin steps over the threshold to the main bedroom, dropping Jongdae onto the mattress and watching him bounce up as he laughs. There’s a happy grin on his face as he looks up at Changmin, and Changmin almost doesn’t know what to do with it – either duck away in shyness or answer back with a smile of his own.

Instead he does what he knows will work – climbing onto the mattress over Jongdae and kissing him, feel that grin against his mouth and let it melt away into a moan as Changmin runs a hand down the kid’s side.

His fingers keep busy scratching through Jongdae’s treasure trail, letting Jongdae arch and hum for more, his own small hands coming up scratch red lines all down Changmin’s front. The touches have a bite of pain to them and Changmin lets go – the sensation rushing down to his half-hard cock.

‘C’mon, let me,’ says Jongdae against Changmin’s lips with a shiver. ‘Hyung, let me.’

Fine. He’d let the kid play. Changmin rolls off Jongdae and gets on his back in the middle of the mattress, arms stretched above his head and resting against the pillows at the top of the bed.

Immediately, Jongdae is hovering over him, pupils blooming dark as he takes in the sight of Changmin, before he’s hooking a leg over the other’s waist, straddling Changmin’s hips. ‘You think you look good don’t you?’

‘I _know_ I look good,’ replies Changmin, making Jongdae scoff as he leans down, peppering kisses along Changmin’s jawline. This doesn’t feel clumsy – Jongdae’s mouth wet and warm as he licks a trail down Changmin’s neck before biting at the curve of his shoulder. Changmin groans, and hears Jongdae’s answering huff of laughter, before the kid’s mouth is on the move again, sucking on Changmin’s adam’s apple.

There are hands on his skin too now – scratching up his ribs and rolling both of Changmn’s nipples between his fingers. Jongdae isn’t a stumbling virgin in this at all – and it makes something like possessiveness diffuse through Changmin’s veins.

‘Who else?’ he asks over a groan as Jongdae nips at the divot of his collarbones.

Jongdae raises his head with a languid smile on his wet, red mouth. ‘Jealous, hyung?’

No use in denying it now. ‘Yeah.’

The answer earns him a breathless laugh, Jongdae looking down at him with something bright in his eyes. ‘You want to make me yours?’

Changmin makes an irritated noise before grabbing onto Jongdae’s hips and rolling them over. Utterly pliant, Jongdae only keeps watching, something secretive in the curve of his mouth, as Changmin decides _fuck this_ and starts to undo the kid’s jeans.

Managing to wrench off the denim and socks, Jongdae is left with only his undershorts on, tented by his cock. ‘Don’t stop there,’ he says, goading Changmin. It works – the last piece of fabric goes off the edge of the mattress, and Changmin can take in the full sight of Jongdae – who isn’t as small or delicate as he first appears.

‘Want to see you too,’ says Jongdae, suddenly sitting up, hands grabbing at the belt buckle of Changmin’s jeans. He’s focused, head ducked down to watch his fingers work, and only falters when Changmin leans down to bite Jongdae’s shoulder, wanting to bruise him fucking _everywhere_ if he can help it.

Eventually, Changmin leans back and lets Jongdae get the rest of his clothes off. Once done, there’s a long beat where Jongdae can only look at him, take him in from face to thighs and back up again, gaze attentive. ‘I want…’

His voice is soft, low, and Changmin tugs him forward to hear him better, letting him kneel between Changmin’s open thighs, as his eyes never stop looking, his fingers never stop touching. ‘Wanted you for _so long_.’

Changmin smiles, ego preening. ‘Now what are you going to do?’

‘Fuck, I don’t know,’ says Jongdae, shrugging, as hands slide over and over along Changmin’s stomach, ribs, sternum, making him shiver. ‘I had figured I’d pay you back by sucking your dick.’

‘Is that all you want to do – a blowjob?’ Changmin tips his head to the side, ignoring how the words make his cock twitch. He knocks Jongdae’s chin up with his fingers, makes him look, and Jongdae’s expression is not what he expects at all – something serious, sharp, watchful. Fucking hell.

‘No.’ Moving now, Jongdae sprawls onto his back, thighs spread. ‘Want you to fuck me.’

‘Jongdae.’

‘Yeah, I know, it’s my first time,’ he says sharply, tone brooking no argument, not when he looks absolutely and utterly serious like this. ‘That’s why it needs to be you.’

Lust and affection slide through Changmin’s veins as he crawls forward, hand sliding up the back of Jongdae’s thigh, keeping it raised to see the obvious curve of his hard cock, his balls, perineum, and hole. Jongdae squirms under the scrutiny, ‘well?’

‘Grab me the lube from the bedside drawer,’ says Changmin, pushing away and slapping the thigh a little sharply. Jongdae yelps, shooting him a glare that only has the other laughing as he begins to grab and organize the pillows on his bed.

Once he’s figured he’s made an appropriate pile as he kneels behind it, head cocked in inspection, Jongdae crawls into his lap, pressing the lube against Changmin’s chest as he tips his head up for a kiss. Changmin can’t deny that – taking the lube with one hand as the other cups the kid’s cheek and angles him right.

Pulling away after a short while, he pushes Jongdae backwards, seeing him land against the pillows in surprise. ‘Hyung, are you _ever_ going to fuck me?’

‘Still debating it,’ replies Changmin with a cheeky grin, popping the cap on the lube and slicking two fingers. ‘Want you on your stomach.’

‘Man, what are these made of? Goose feathers?’ remarks Jongdae as he drops his chest onto the cushions, knees spread on either side and ass cocked upwards. ‘Even your pillows are pretentious, hyung.’

‘It’s the theme of the décor, you should’ve noticed by now.’

Anything Jongdae was going to say is lost when Changmin slides the slick pad of his finger up from sac to hole. ‘Fuck – hyung – ’ blurts out Jongdae, before he’s burying his face in a pillow as Changmin doesn’t stop.

‘Want to hear you,’ mentions Changmin before he’s pressing his finger a little harder against the hole, feeling Jongdae’s hips jerk and shiver, torn between pulling away and pushing back. He nips at the skin at the base of kid’s spine before trying to ingratiate the tip inside of Jongdae and it’s enough for Jongdae to throw his head back in a breathless wail, body definitely jerking back to ride down on the pressure. ‘Yeah, like that.’

Jongdae drops his head back against the cushions, head turned to the side so he can still breathe as Changmin slides in the finger completely, dragging it achingly slow, making him _feel_ it. Choking on his breath, Jongdae fists the cushions and presses back, ready for more already, though Changmin _knows_ he can feel the burn riding through his skin.

‘Eager, eager,’ he murmurs, crooking two fingers and running them along the inside of Jongdae.

‘Not going to _break_ ,’ snarls Jongdae, pride smarting, as he sucks in breath after breath, trying to ease his muscles without Changmin even telling him to.

‘Have you done this before too?’ he asks suddenly, fingers twisting inside of the other.

Immediately, Jongdae makes another choked-off sound, but takes it. ‘Th-That a problem, hyung?’

‘Brat.’

‘Ngh – would you have me other way?’ says Jongdae, looking over his shoulder at Changmin with a maddeningly knowing smile. It melts away as Changmin introduces a third finger inside and he’s collapsing back against the pile of pillows.

Changmin goes slow; lets Jongdae ride out the sensations with each curve of his fingers, letting his hips control the pace. It’s his first time, as hard as it is believe with the way Jongdae moves with confidence and knowledge of exactly what he wants.

It’s almost lulling – seeing the flutter of the muscles on Jongdae’s back scrunch up and relax with each push-pull, like a wave washing up his skin and drawing back, leaving nothing but some freckles dotting the skin, some pock-marks and scars from childhood. He leans over and kisses each one, feeling how overheated Jongdae must be right now as he tries to bite off his sounds from the way he’s fucking himself open on Changmin’s hand.

‘God – fuck – now, just, _now_ ,’ manages Jongdae as Changmin mouths wetly over the knobs of his spine. He bites down over Jongdae’s shoulder as he twists out his fingers and feels more than hears Jongdae’s groan as his spine arches. ‘ _Changmin-hyung_.’

‘Let me get a condom,’ he says, petting Jongdae’s side in reassurance, and Jongdae makes some sort of irritated noise at the back of his throat, before Changmin feels a small hand hook piercingly at the back of his neck, not letting Changmin move.

‘Screw the condom and fuck me, hyung,’ demands Jongdae, voice low and wrecked and brooking no argument.

The short nails dig into Changmin’s skin, painful, and Changmin gets the point. ‘Fine,’ he growls, using the lube to slick up his cock and smear the crown over and over Jongdae’s hole, teasing. Another muffled string of swears and Jongdae’s twisting his hips, trying to get him inside.

Changmin slides inside halfway, breath caught at how tight and hot Jongdae is, and feels Jongdae’s grip slip away from his neck to claw at the pillows. ‘Hyung, Changmin-hyung.’

It’s almost overwhelming when he slides in home, pressed up against Jongdae’s ass, his hands leaving bruises on the other’s hips. Jongdae’s breathing fast now, unable to speak, but his back is arched in want, so Changmin fucks into him slow and deep, giving him time.

He only gets a few thrusts in until Jongdae’s knees slip apart, needing Changmin’s grip to keep him up. ‘More,’ pants out Jongdae, body relaxing and adjusting to the weight, stretch, heat of a cock inside of him.

‘Up,’ says Changmin, slinging an arm around Jongdae’s stomach and pulling so his back rests against the other’s chest. The movement has his cock lodge even deeper inside of Jongdae, scraping along his prostate, and Jongdae keens in desire.

Like this, it’s hard to ignore how small Jongdae is, with his hands scratching into Changmin’s biceps as he holds on, letting Changmin rock into him. His head tips back on Changmin’s shoulder, giving him an up-close view of how red Jongdae’s mouth is, the bob of his adam’s apple, how his lashes flutter with each fuck, body stretched out in sheer _want_.

‘Is this what you wanted?’ asks Changmin, uncaring that his voice is hoarse and unsteady, because he gets to see Jongdae shiver and swallow, nodding. Then his hips start rolling into Changmin’s thrusts, and Changmin is struck by Jongdae’s gaze when he finally opens his eyes – so clear and perfectly aware. ‘Fuck.’

Jongdae smiles, though each fuck below has his breath punched out of him in small, pretty gasps, ‘ah – Ch- _ah_ -ngmin – harder – ’ and the needy tone is so fucking _different_ from his self-confident expression that it has Changmin’s hips slam up just as told. ‘ _Yes_ – like _that_ – ’

After that, any self-control that Changmin might have seems to be lost as he keeps one arm braced across Jongdae’s torso, his other hand still tight on the kid’s hips as he fucking reams upwards, makes each of Jongdae’s breaths jump out from his lungs so he has no choice but to hold on and moan.

He’s so fucking _loud_ about it, and Changmin can’t deny that it’s hot as hell, feeling Jongdae squirm in his grip, letting out these broken wails when Changmin’s cock hits him just right. Just to try, Changmin scrapes his teeth down the side of Jongdae’s throat and like some sort of instrument, Jongdae’s voice rises up a notch, all the sensations pooling into him to make him sing out like this.

When he bites, Jongdae genuinely trembles, his grip on Changmin’s arms digging painfully, ‘ _shit_ , hyung, hyung.’ Changmin likes the sound of that – doesn’t want to stop marking Jongdae up as he fucks into him.

Jongdae seems to find the rhythm and begins to arch his spine, roll his hips so he’s meeting each thrust. Except all that does is key them both up – the end rushing onto them. Changmin gives up on a pattern, just holds onto the small torso as he flexes his thighs and slams up into Jongdae.

‘Going to come?’ he asks, not stopping in the least, wants to pound the answers out of Jongdae, who is bouncing in his lap, helpless to the pace Changmin sets.

The answer is obvious – though Jongdae hasn’t touched his own cock yet, it’s arched up and red, drooling a line of precome, and slaps against his belly when Changmin rocks into Jongdae’s ass. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ manages the other, ‘Ah – hah – want m-me to come on your cock, hyung?’

‘Get yourself off.’ While it would be glorious to see Jongdae orgasm untouched, just from Changmin’s hands and mouth and how the crown of his cock presses up so hard against Jongdae’s prostate – he’s not going to last that long.

Once the words register, Jongdae unhooks one of his hands from Changmin’s arm before he’s using the lines of precome from the crown of his dick to slick his palm up. Then he tightens his grip and strokes, and Changmin groans at how Jongdae’s ass flutters – tightens up and loosens – as he tries to rut into his hand.

They fuck hard. Jongdae scrabbles for a grip, getting himself off at the same time, and the way he’s getting noisier and noisier – Changmin knows he’s close. He doesn’t stop – hips moving up and back again, knocking his cock right into the spot that has Jongdae’s mouth drop open with a broken moan of his name. He wants to see – wants to _know_ what Jongdae looks like when he loses it completely, undone and vulnerable and completely at Changmin’s mercy.

Not long after and Jongdae is at the end, his eyes open and staring up at Changmin, ‘gonna – _Changmin-hyung, please_ – gonna – ’ Without missing a beat, Changmin slams into him deep and hard, screws into him with all he’s got, as he sinks his teeth right into Jongdae’s neck. With a twist and a wail, Jongdae comes – spilling his load over his fingers and splattered up his stomach as aftershocks rock through his frame.

His ass is milking Changmin so well, so Changmin stills his hips, grinds up in slow circles as his orgasm rushes down his spine. He doesn’t expect Jongdae’s fingers to fist into his hair, draw his mouth to side, and suddenly Jongdae is kissing him, licking right into his mouth and tasting the groan as Changmin comes hard – filling him up.

For a few moments, they stay together. Jongdae pulls away from the kiss slowly, eyes closed, and slumps back against Changmin, clearly exhausted. Changmin eases out of him and lays him down on the sheets, laughing softly when Jongdae whines at the sudden lack of body heat around him.

‘I’m going to clean you up,’ he says, pushing off the bed and wandering into his bathroom, looking for towels. When he comes back, Jongdae has managed to push all the pillows back in their rightful place against the headboard and collapsed face-first into one, legs spread and a line of come leaking out of him already.

Changmin’s slow as he wipes at Jongdae’s ass, around his stomach and cock, manhandling him easily.

Jongdae is quiet and warm, utterly relaxed, as Changmin works, and finally murmurs, ‘can I stay here?’

‘Yeah, I’ll take the couch,’ he replies, tossing the towel into his laundry hamper in the corner of the room.

‘No,’ says Jongdae. He’s turned his head to the side so Changmin can see his expression, the utter seriousness of it. ‘Can I stay _here_?’

Something close to relief curls up in Changmin’s stomach. He lifts the sheets and pulls them over Jongdae and slips in right beside him. ‘Yeah.’

In the dark, Jongdae’s hand finds his – so small, yet surprisingly strong – and holds on.

-

Morning is shadowed grey with winter clouds, the air cool and frosting over the glass in indiscernible patterns. It makes the faint light diffuse all throughout the room, waking Changmin slowly. He’s splayed on his back, blinking languidly at the ceiling, as the memories of the night before comes to him in the soreness of his muscles, the fading stickiness caught in the web of his fingers.

There’s a weight over his chest, warmth pressed along his side, and when he looks down, it’s to the sight of Jongdae curled against him, arm and leg thrown over Changmin as if to keep him there. Idly, Changmin runs his fingers through the mussed hair of the other, making it stick up at odd angles, until Jongdae’s making little whining noises from the back of his throat, waking up too.

It takes a few blinks before Jongdae is looking up at Changmin, eyes half-lidded with sleepiness, mouth parted with no words coming out. Eventually, ‘hyung, I’m sore.’

Changmin barely muffles his laugh, pressing his knuckles of his free hand to his mouth. ‘I bet. Made sure to fuck you good.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ says Jongdae, rolling his eyes, as he pushes himself up on his hands, before thinking better of it and collapsing back down, this time over Changmin, winding him.

‘Get off me, brat,’ says Changmin without any heat, his hand still petting through Jongdae’s hair, liking the softness of it. ‘Need a shower.’

‘It’s so warm and comfy here,’ says Jongdae, propping his chin on Changmin’s sternum and grinning up at him.

His hand in Jongdae’s hair stills, then takes a loose grip. ‘Come here.’ Jongdae does, leaning up, and Changmin kisses him, humming at how easily the other opens up for him, a moan vibrating up his throat already.

When they pull away only a beat later, Jongdae’s smiling is so wide, making the corner of his eyes scrunch up. Unable to help it, Changmin cups his face, stroking his thumb over a cheekbone. ‘You that happy about sex?’

‘Of course not, hyung,’ scoffs Jongdae. ‘Happy about sex with _you_.’

A sudden wave of shyness hits Changmin at the honesty, the sincerity written over Jongdae’s expression, and he wonders if his ears are burning when Jongdae rolls off him with a laugh, not mean, just delighted.

‘Didn’t you say we need to shower?’ says Jongdae, sitting at the edge of the bed and looking over his shoulder back at Changmin. ‘Hurry up, hyung.’ With that he’s walking off, laughing when Changmin comes up after him, catching him around his small waist. ‘Just cause you’re taller and stronger – !’

‘Means I can do whatever I want,’ finishes Changmin, hustling Jongdae to his bathroom.

-

Washing Jongdae isn’t a pain like Changmin expected, when he just gets all lazy and sleepy under the hot water, smiling like a fool as he blinks slowly up at Changmin. Changmin’s ears are going to burn off his head if this keeps up – so completely embarrassed by how unashamed Jongdae is with his affection. It makes him wonder why he was so unsure about keeping Jongdae in the first place – when it’s so obvious how much Jongdae wants to be here.

He dresses Jongdae in some old sweats and a t-shirt, and pulls on some undershorts and a t-shirt for himself. It’s hard to not stop touching him, an arm slung around Jongdae’s shoulders, fingers scratching idly at the spot behind his ear, the playful nudges of his knee at the back of Jongdae’s thigh to make him walk faster.

Jongdae commandeers Changmin’s laptop to the breakfast bar, providing him an eclectic playlist for breakfast cooking. ‘Recognize any of this?’

Changmin pauses in cracking an egg into the pan, thinking, before, ‘yeah, yeah, it’s one of your songs.’

‘So you _do_ listen to me.’

‘Did you really think otherwise?’

‘No,’ admits Jongdae with a laugh. ‘And this one?’

The familiar guitar riff rides up into the air, makes the hair on Changmin’s arms stand on end, as he listens. ‘It’s _him_.’

‘One day, I’m going to be this good.’

The eggs sizzle in the pan. Changmin takes a spatula and flips them, over-easy. He waits. In a minute, they’re done, ready to be slid into the plate next to the stove. Nothing else happens. The lack of it – lack of apprehension, of jealousy – is startling and Changmin is left staring at his plate in silence and wonder.

‘Hyung?’ calls out Jongdae, slipping off the stool and padding over, slinging an arm around Changmin’s waist and looking up at him.

Breaking out of his thoughts, Changmin puts the pan down on an unlit burner to cool and shakes his head. ‘You will. You will be better.’

‘Sorry – I shouldn’t have brought him up.’

‘No.’ Changmin looks down at Jongdae with a slow smile. ‘I’m just surprised.’

‘About?’

‘Myself.’

‘You even talk pretentiously,’ complains Jongdae, snatching the plate of eggs away to take to the table.

They eat while Jongdae informs him of his schedule for the rest of his month, talks about how he hopes they’ll move him to a bigger dorm, wonders when he’ll do his next performance, asks Changmin about all sorts of things from what he did last weekend to how he knew Minho – a famous soccer player for the national team.

He helps Changmin with dishes, knocking their hips together until Changmin demands him to stop by biting his ear. Once it’s all done – no longer sleepy, but sated, Jongdae happily sprawls over Changmin’s couch, unable to get enough of how comfortable it is. ‘Seriously, where did you buy this thing?’

Changmin sits on one end, letting Jongdae’s feet rest in his lap, and tickles him until Jongdae is yelling and scrambling away, almost falling off the damn thing. Once he’s recovered, Changmin gets tackled over by a pouting Jongdae, straddling his stomach and glaring down at him. ‘Such an asshole, hyung.’

‘Took you this long to notice?’ grins Changmin, gaze tracing over the line of Jongdae’s neck, how it’s all bruised up. The collar of the shirt slips down, reveals a plethora more. He reaches up and presses his fingers against some, watching Jongdae’s lashes flutter at the feeling.

‘Are we,’ starts Jongdae, ‘can I – am I…’ He trails off, unable to get the right words. Changmin is patient, waits, hand retreating to rest over Jongdae’s waist, holding him there. ‘This is embarrassing.’

‘Oh good, please keep going,’ replies Changmin, making Jongdae narrow his eyes down at him.

‘Hyung!’ he whines but shakes his head. ‘Can I… can I be your, well, I guess, boyfriend?’

Changmin stares up at him for a long second before bursting into laughter, hands coming up to hide his face, feeling Jongdae squirm on top of him before pulling away. ‘Wait, wait, Jongdae-ah,’ he calls out, arm reaching out and hooking around Jongdae’s waist, keeping him still. ‘Jongdae.’ When Changmin looks up, Jongdae’s cheeks and ears are flushed red, and he looks uncertain, a little scared. ‘Jongdae.’

‘What?’ bites out Jongdae. ‘Shit – okay, you think I just wanted hickeys from you for fun? I just wanted – wanted to feel like you had me. Just you. I really like you, Changmin-hyung.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Changmin sits up, and the movement has Jongdae sliding back from Changmin’s stomach to ending up in his lap. With both arms curled around Jongdae’s waist, he has nowhere to escape, and Changmin uses it to his advantage to nose into his hair – so soft and smelling like Changmin’s shampoo. ‘I wanted to have you, _just_ you, for a long time. I just got scared. Of myself, of you.’

‘I’m too short to be scary,’ replies Jongdae, face tucked against Changmin’s collarbone.

‘You clearly don’t know yourself,’ says Changmin, tone dry. ‘You remind me of all the things I fucked up when I was younger, my dream of being a singer shot to shit by my anxiety.’

Jongdae is quiet, but he burrows closer, presses his warmth into Changmin’s skin.

‘But this morning, you mentioned yourself and _him_ and I didn’t – it didn’t matter to me. I didn’t feel a thing.’ Changmin hums in thought. ‘Probably because I just got to be with you how I want to. Made my brain finally realize you’re not _him_ , you’re not me, you’re Jongdae, Chen, _you_ – and even if I fucked up, it makes me happy to see when others – when _you_ – succeed, especially with my help.’

He laughs softly to himself. ‘I do actually like my job. I like playing with odds and winning and the people I work with. You just fucked me up for a little while.’

‘Sorry.’

‘No. I had to think about it and come to terms with it eventually.’ Changmin presses a kiss to Jongdae’s hair. ‘Glad I did it with you.’

‘So, are we – am I…’ trails off Jongdae.

‘Yeah,’ says Changmin. ‘We’re boyfriends.’

‘Fuck, that sounds so embarrassing,’ he says loudly, letting out a long breath.

Changmin muffles his laugh against Jongdae’s cheek – _such a kid_ – until Jongdae kisses him shut.

-

The end of the year awards are populated with celebrities in the front, while Changmin sits at his table near the side with Donghae and Ryeowook, Seohyun and Soonkyu, Jeongsu and Miyoung. They switch between their phones and the awards being called out – all of them busy for news on their own idol they’ve been courting.

Changmin sees Jongdae next to Liyin, talking to her excitedly in hushed whispers, and Liyin nodding and laughing. They’re friends, still, because Jongdae really _is_ her fan, but his affections have retreated, overwhelming Changmin instead. It still catches him off-guard at times.

Moving his gaze, he sees Soojung sneaking glances at where Kyuhyun and Song Qian are seated next to each other, while she is stuck with Jongin and Sehun. Taemin is there too, looking like Jongin’s long-lost brother when they’re next to each other. They’re both much too pretty.

The managers are at the side. Zhou Mi is clapping politely as Jonghyun watches eagerly over who receives the various awards being called out.

Midway through the event, Changmin puts down his phone and waits, listening to the nominees for ‘Best Rookie of the Year’ being called out and displayed on the wide screen at the front of the stage. There’s five of them – Chen’s clip from his music video where he looked so good, sang so well.

His heartbeat thunders in anticipation. Beside him, Soonkyu lays her hand on his arm, grounding him, as the entire table turns towards the hosts walk up to the microphone, card and trophy in hands for the winner.

The host smiles, looking over the crowd to build the anticipation, as she talks about all the new faces they’ve seen and heard. Seohyun titters, ‘they take so fucking long.’

Donghae snorts in agreement. ‘I’m sure it’s Changmin’s boy.’

Ryeowook nods. ‘You worked this year really well.’

Finally, the host ends her spiel and waves the card around, before taking a deep breath. ‘The award goes to – Chen!’

Applause rocks through the entire venue, vibrating right down into Changmin’s bones as he slumps back into his chair in relief, hearing the theme music end with a clip of Chen’s song resounding from the speakers around them all.

Between the tables, Jongdae navigates around the chairs, smiling and laughing, looking good in his classic black and white suit, forehead showing from the stylists’ coif. He skips up the stairs – one, two, three – and bows and shakes the hands of the hosts, taking the trophy and speaking to the mic.

It takes a beat for Changmin to tune into the actual words, ‘ – would like to thank – ’ before he’s back out again, reveling in the feeling of pride and joy, of how good it feels to have played the game and won against the odds.

‘Nice job,’ says Soonkyu.

‘Thanks,’ says Changmin.

-

The awards show finally ends two hours later and everyone is finding each other and filing out – details of after-parties thrown here and there, promises for drinks exchanged, numbers and thank yous and goodbyes.

Changmin catches Jongdae while he’s talking to Soojung. Song Qian is already approaching them, smile on her mouth. ‘Unnie,’ says Soojung when she sees the other, ‘why can’t I sit with _you_ next time?’

‘We’re still at the little kids table,’ says Jongdae, for which Soojung kicks his shin.

‘Speak for yourself, I’m an actress too.’

‘Soojungie,’ laughs Song Qian. ‘Tell your manager you’re coming with me, okay?’

‘Finally!’ Soojung darts away, leaving just the three of them behind.

Jongdae looks up at Changmin. ‘Should I tell manager-hyung the same?’

‘I’ll be with Kyuhyun, just wanted to talk to you before I left,’ says Changmin, looking up at Song Qian.

She nods. ‘I’ll meet you guys later.’ She glances at Jongdae. ‘I’m sure you have invites of your own, Jongdae-ah.’

‘Only like five,’ says Jongdae with a hint of smugness.

‘Go to three,’ she advises before tossing a wave to Changmin. ‘Let Kyuhyun know.’

‘Will do,’ says Changmin, watching her walk away to get Soojung.

‘So?’ prompts Jongdae.

‘For one, congratulations.’ Jongdae’s not holding the award anymore – Jonghyun had taken responsibility of that. ‘Second, you still have a schedule, so actually go to sleep at some point tonight.’

‘So lame, hyung.’ Rolling his eyes, Jongdae stuffs his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before he’s talking again. ‘Sorry for… for being a pain in the ass over the months.’

Changmin raises his eyebrows in surprise but doesn’t interrupt.

‘I’m still nervous about my fame, and I still… I’m still not comfortable with scandals and stunts.’ Jongdae’s not looking at him. ‘But I get it – and I know it helped me, so thanks. I wouldn’t have won that award with just my voice, I know that now. And – and I’m still getting used to it – this whole idol thing – but I know I can do this, cause you taught me I can. Just. Thanks.’

‘Hey,’ says Changmin, clasping a hand around Jongdae’s neck and making him look up. He smiles and – after a beat – Jongdae eventually smiles back, relaxing under the gaze. ‘Love you too.’

And that’s enough for Jongdae’s face to start burning bright as he scrambles away, making Changmin laugh and wave at him. ‘Have fun!’ Then Jongdae is off, and Changmin takes out his phone and calls Kyuhyun, ‘where are you already?’

‘I’m already in the parking lot with Yunho – hurry up! Bring your little idol.’

‘Shut up, he’s my boyfriend,’ snaps Changmin with a grin on his face. ‘I’m on my way.’

-

**Author's Note:**

> \- _anamnesis_ : to learn something the soul already knows  
> \- the unnamed idol referenced throughout is, ofc, jaejoong  
> \- here is an [entire tag](http://leftfoottrapped.tumblr.com/tagged/chen_x_changmin) on my blog dedicated to changdae, if you'd like to peruse  
> \- as always, thank you for reading!


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